Tanstaafl
by Morgan Thomas
Summary: Someone's watching the Hub. Friend or foe? Alternate Universe. Other characters. Elements of slash later, also het later - hence rating.
1. Chapter 1

_Welcome to my TW universe!_

_ Things you need to know: Only uses Series One - haven't seen Series Two yet. Very Important! Some episodes happen in a different order here. ' Greeks Bearing Gifts' and 'Ghost Machine' happened some time ago, 'Cyberwoman' about two weeks ago. Story opens one day before 'Everything Changes'. Hope you've got that - and the changes it makes - clear in your mind!_

_ Finally, this hasn't been beta-ed. If anyone wants to after reading, all offers gratefully accepted - esp. re semi-colons! All scribblers love reviews, and I'm no exception, so please review if you have a couple of extra mins at the end of a chapter. Ta!  
_

_All the usual disclaimers apply - of course - except for the OC, who is mine, all mine!_

**One**

"We need more bodies!"

Jack pulled a paper cup from the dispenser, filled it with water from the cooler. "Suzie, we've had two murder victims in a week. This is Cardiff not Detroit. What do you want me to do? Go out and stab someone?"

"No. No, of course not," said Suzie quickly. She massaged her forehead with her fingers. "It's just a bit frustrating!"

Jack rubbed her arm. "Have patience. If anyone can crack that glove, it'll be you."

"Captain," said Ianto from his seat at Jack's computer terminal. "She's there again."

Jack quickly swallowed his water, dropped the cup in the bin and moved to his desk. He leaned on the back of the chair and checked the CCTV image over Ianto's shoulder. "How many evenings is this?"

"Six. She just stands there with that bloody coffee, watching the Lift. She has to have seen us come in."

"Not possible," dismissed Suzie. She also came over, folded her arms and studied the image. "No one knows the Lift's there."

Eyes intent on the motionless little figure, Jack called out, "Tosh! Still no luck with ID?"

"Too dark." Tosh sounded frustrated. "Even with all the enhancements I can't get a high enough resolution. She's stayed in the shadows - apart from when she played kangaroo on the Lift that first night, and then that hood obscured her face."

"We'll rethink the placement of the cameras tomorrow," said Jack. "Maybe look at upgrading them, or altering the lighting. Tonight, however, we will end this. She's bugged us long enough. Let's get her down here. We can check her out properly, squirt a little fly-spray if necessary."

"Down here? You want her down here?" Suzie's tone was very sharp. "Having come within a scalpel-blade of being 'upgraded' a couple of weeks ago, I'm not sure I'm happy with that, Jack."

Ianto's chair jerked under Jack's hands. "Tosh?" queried Jack.

"All the readings I can get while she's in the Plass indicate nothing other than ordinary human female. The heat signature, for example. Absolutely normal. No hot spots - apart from the cup - and that registers spot on for a hot drink, no indication of weapons, nothing. I really don't think she's anything other than what she appears."

"Okay. Suzie, weapons issue just to be certain."

Suzie's gaze slid to Ianto's back for a second. Jack nodded and Suzie headed for the armoury.

She returned with their usual semis and handed one to Ianto as Jack, having checked and loaded his revolver, was buckling his holster to his waist. He moved out into the main workstation area. "Okay, let's be alert, people - just don't look like it. Owen, go issue an invitation to Miss Mystery."

Owen grinned and rolled back his chair. "With pleasure."

"Let's see if we can entice her over, find out if she really can see through the filter." Jack went down the steps to the lower level tapping at his wrist device. High above him, the square section of the soaring ceiling that opened into Roald Dahl Plass above swung away with a hydraulic hiss. Stepping onto the great stone slab of the Lift, he tapped again and the Lift ascended as he gazed up through the gaping hole in the roof.

He was about three-quarters of the way to the top when a sharp cry of, "Hey!" heralded a dark shape falling into his waiting arms.

The hood slipped away to reveal light-brown, rather shaggy, shoulder-length hair. Clear blue-grey eyes stared at him from sockets with dark smudges under, as if they didn't get enough sleep, though they looked wide enough awake at the moment. "Don't worry." He grinned. Catching falling girls was getting to be a habit. "I've got you."

"But who's got you?" asked the girl.

"It's just a lift." He set her on her feet and she shifted as far away as the square, unbarriered block of stone safely allowed, balancing well in her trainers, still clutching the takeaway cup she'd somehow managed to hang on to during her fall.

"Not Superman after all, then. Pity," she muttered absently in a voice as lilting as Ianto's.

Jack brought the Lift to a smooth halt, then had it descend, crossing his arms while he studied her. About mid-twenties, she was shorter than he'd realised from the CCTV, shorter even than Tosh, though stockier. Unremarkable facial features, except for those clear eyes, and a rather heavy jaw that led to a determined chin. Apart from the trainers, an expensive, designer sports brand, worn in but not worn out, she was nondescript, shapeless, almost tatty in faded jeans and baggy old grey hoodie. Like Tosh had said, ordinary. Only she couldn't be that ordinary if she'd seen through the perception filter in the Plass. On the CCTV, motionless in the shadows, hood drawn over her head, she'd had a patient stillness about her as she kept her evening vigil - a waiting - that seemed almost ghost-like. Now she was very much alive, head going like radar, sharp eyes darting around as they took in each new detail of the multi-levelled main chamber as the Lift's descent brought more of it into view.

"It's so quiet down here," was her only comment. She sounded almost relieved. "Except…" Her eyes searched the area even harder.

As the Lift finally halted, a raucous cry rent the air. The girl's head turned sharply up and she twisted around, craning her neck to see into the shadows near the roof. Jack grabbed her elbow as she stumbled off the stone block.

She removed her arm from his grip, still gazing up, mesmerised by the shape swooping and soaring high above them. "Pterodactyl?"

"Yes." Jack frowned at her quiet acceptance of the impossible. "It's good to see it flying so well again. Had a bit of a run-in with our last unwelcome visitor. Mind you, we made it plain _exactly_ how unwelcome she was. She won't bother us again."

The girl's gaze finally dropped down to meet his. He could detect absolutely no fear in her eyes, only intense curiosity, a certain amount of wariness and, he thought, a hint of puzzlement. He hoped he was hiding his own curiosity and puzzlement better. They'd never had a visitor quite like this one. He grinned again, setting the full force of his personality behind the smile. "Welcome to-"

"Torchwood," she finished for him.

Jack blinked.

"You don't like spreading your name about up there, but you're not worried down here, are you?" she said, tipping her chin at the name blazoned on the brickwork.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. Then began again, "Welcome to…the Hub, home of Torchwood Three." Her gaze had already wandered up to the next level, searching. "Come and meet the team," he said, leading the way around the great column of the shining fountain and up, his boots clattering slightly on the metal steps. Hardly a sound came from the trainers as she followed. He waved his hand in Tosh's direction. "Dr Toshiko Sato, computer genius." Tosh gave a wave of her hand and a bright smile. "Suzie Costello, second in command." From her workstation, Suzie's responding nod was very brief. She turned back to the metal glove before her and probed delicately. "Ianto Jones, major-domo and the public face of Torchwood in our little establishment upstairs." Now seated in Owen's chair, Ianto's nod was even more brief than Suzie's. "And I'm Captain Jack Harkness, commanding officer."

The girl's eyes were riveted to Ianto's hunched profile.

Jack leaned down to her level and said, "The suit's kinda cute, isn't it? I keep telling him it's a distraction but he keeps right on wearing it."

"What? Oh, sorry, who were you again?"

"Jack Harkness - Captain - CO."

Blue-grey eyes gave him the once-over. "Of course. Couldn't possibly be anything else, could you?"

Jack gave a crack of laughter. "No, I couldn't."

Her eyes ran over his holster. "That for me?" At his lack of response she added, "Your turn not to worry." She grinned in real amusement. "I'm harmless." Then her gaze was off again. "Messy lot, aren't you?" She waved her cup in the direction of the old coffee table before the brown-check sofa littered with the debris of their take-away dinner, pizza boxes and bottles scattered about.

Ianto rose hurriedly. "Sorry."

Jack pressed him back into the chair with a hand on his shoulder. "Later is fine."

Owen bounded down the steps from the circular security door that led to the conventional lift. Ianto quickly vacated his seat.

"You took your time," said Jack.

Owen gave a careless hitch of his shoulders. "Didn't realise I was supposed to be rushing."

"And this is Owen Harper," Jack told the girl.

"_Doctor_ Owen Harper," corrected Owen.

"We've met." Her voice dripped resentment and animosity.

"Sorry about the little-" Owen made a pushing motion with his hands. He didn't sound particularly sorry. "Blame the boss," he added with a grin as he plonked himself down in his chair.

The girl gave her head a slow, disbelieving shake.

"So that's the team." Jack waited. "And you are?" he finally prompted.

She merely took the lid off her coffee and sipped, looking up at him from over the rim.

"Bit rude," said Owen, swinging his chair from side to side.

Tosh glanced up, her satisfied look indicating that they'd soon know anyway. Suzie's gaze remained glued to the glove.

The girl's eyes flickered to Owen for a second before returning her attention to Jack. "What about the other one?"

"What other one?"

"The other one. You're not the only ones down here."

"Oh. _That_ other one. Okay, Miss Mystery." He held out his hand. "Come."

She merely sipped her coffee again.

Jack gave a shrug, changed his held-out hand to an extravagant gesture of 'this way' before shoving both hands in his pockets and heading for the cells, noting with satisfaction clear, scanned images of their visitor popping up on Tosh's workstation screens and that Owen had already set his station for a bioscan.

Mystery's reaction to what was almost certainly her first sight of a Weevil upped his puzzlement into bafflement. Though she inhaled sharply and her eyes widened, she showed no fear, nor even, considering what she was looking at, very much surprise. After a second or two, she waved her coffee vaguely in Jack's direction, who took it, his mouth curving at her imperiousness, and went right up to the clear, protective cell barrier and stared. The Weevil raised its head and stared dully back, baring its teeth.

Jack found himself wanting a little more wonder at least. "It's alien. Not of Earth. From another planet."

"Well, it's not exactly a man in a mask," in a very tart tone was all he got.

"We call them Weevils. We don't know their real names because they're not good at communicating. There's a couple of hundred of them living in the sewers, feeding off the - well, you can guess, it's the sewers. But every once in a while one of them goes rogue, comes to the surface, attacks. It's been happening more and more lately and we don't know why." Jack could tell she was listening but she didn't once look at him, for reassurance or anything else. Her eyes never wavered from what ought to seem monstrous to her, an alien that should have had her panicking, or screaming with fear, or something - anything! Slowly, the Weevil stood and groggily made its way over to the barrier. The girl raised her hand and placed her palm on the clear barrier. The Weevil copied, setting its gnarled and distorted hand palm to palm with the girl's.

"A stranger in a strange land," she murmured. "You're lost and confused, aren't you? And not very bright. Poor old girl."

"That poor old girl - girl? - girl ripped out the throats of two guys on their way home from the pub before we man-"

"Reacting to the unknown the only way she knows how. With violence and hate! Humans do that too, including some who don't have the excuse of being virtually moronic!"

The Weevil snarled, throwing herself at the barrier.

The girl jumped, jerking her hand away. Jack tensed, ready for rescue if required. It wasn't.

"Oh, hell! Sorry, I'm sorry." Only she wasn't apologising to him. Both her hands were on the barrier now. The Weevil calmed. Head on one side, the alien looked at the girl, then pulled back her lips in a small snarl and shambled over to her place in the corner, where her sedated gaze wandered vaguely about.

"Where do they come from?" the girl asked, her gaze still on the alien.

"We don't know."

Her head turned. "What with all that whiz-bang gear out there, you don't know?"

"They didn't come here in a spaceship. There's a rift in space and time running right through Cardiff. That's why we're based here."

"You mean, like a - a portal?" She caught on fast. Almost too fast. Jack began to wonder if he ought to just shove her into a cell of her own, without waiting for Tosh and Owen's reports.

He shook his head. "More like a wormhole; one end fixed here, the other waving around in space and time. Our friend here and her pals just kind of slipped through."

"So why don't you send them back?"

"We can't. We only monitor the Rift, we can't control it. All sorts of things get washed up here; creatures, time shifts, space junk, flotsam and jetsam."

"But you're not just going to keep her locked in there, are you?" Her eyes darkened with sudden concern. "You're not going to kill her?"

"We'll take her back to the sewers when we've got a minute, let her go."

"God, what an existence. Life in a sewer, all for falling into a wormhole!"

"So what are we supposed to do? Take her out for walks round the Plass on a leash?"

"Sounds like a good start!" She stalked passed, grabbed her coffee and began climbing the metal rungs of the steep, ship-style steps back to the next level.

The Hub was quiet, the work stations empty. Obviously Tosh and Owen hadn't found anything that made them consider their visitor any kind of threat. Jack frowned at his watch. Only eight thirty. They were in a hurry tonight; must all have dates or something. Lucky them. At least all alien technology had been locked securely away, he thought, noting with approval Suzie's empty bench.

The girl had stopped by the armoury, her eyes raking the ranks of weapons, of both human and alien manufacture, that lined the walls. "Necessary, I suppose," was her only comment, the words and slow nod of her head belied by a touch of disapproval in her tone.

Jack set his forearm on the glass partition above her head, deliberately too close. "Yes," he said. He brought his head down close to hers. "Very."

She didn't budge. "What were their names?"

"Whose? The team?"

"The men the Weevil killed. What were their names?"

She was obliquely apologising for her outburst in the cells. Jack shrugged. "I have no idea." He ran up the steps to the next level, heading for his office.

She chased after him. "But surely you must remember? What did you tell their families?"

"We didn't tell them anything." He shrugged himself into his jacket and greatcoat. "Tosh and Owen dealt with it. Made it look like a gang-mugging gone wrong, I think."

"But-"

"You have questions and my throat's dry. Must be getting dehydrated. Can't have that. Come on, my shout." He led the way across to the security door leading to the conventional lift.

At the steel gates, he turned to check she was following. She'd halted before the Hand's container, was reaching out her own hand. Jack grabbed her wrist. "Don't!"

She froze, giving him a filthy look. "I won't hurt it!" She held his gaze. "Don't panic!" Her eyes lit with sudden amusement, which more than anything else made Jack slowly relax his grip and nod his assent.

With a final look at him, she placed her palm on the container. The Hand moved slightly in the preservative, the same as always. "It's not human. It's-" Her voice dropped, awed at last. "Old. But… not." She shook her head slowly. "I can't… It's…" she muttered as though something was on the tip of her tongue. "It's…"

"What?" he asked sharply.

He thought she was going to say Time Lord, but after a struggle she simply whispered "Torchwood?" leaving Jack feeling disappointed for the first time since she'd dropped into his arms.

The lift doors opened and Ianto stepped out. He gave Jack a slightly startled look. "Sorry, sir, I assumed you'd want to take the scenic route. I've just locked up." His look altered to significant as he gave the sheaf of hardcopy in his hand a small shake.

"That's fine." Jack tucked his hand under the girl's elbow to steer her back towards the stone slab.

She twisted herself out of his grip again as though she really disliked his touch and he began to wonder if her sexual orientation didn't include men. "I remember where it is," she said.

"You coming up, Ianto?"

"No, Captain. Got a couple of things to finish off." His eyes dodged about before meeting Jack's defiantly. "Don't worry, I'm not up to anything I shouldn't."

"I didn't think you were."

Ianto gave a small, pretend smile. "Anyway, Suzie's still around. I think she's putting the glove away. And she said she still had some data she wants to go over tonight."

"Tell her not to be too late, it can wait. She's spending too much time here; she should go home. And so should you."

"Yes, Captain." Ianto turned to the girl and removed her empty coffee container from her fingers. "I'll make sure it finds its way into the recycling bin. Goodnight - Ms Evans."

She didn't bat an eyelid at his use of her name, but simply gave him a smile. A smile that transformed her face, filled it with warmth and sweetness. "Goodnight, Mr Jones. Sleep well." She sounded as though she meant it and Jack wondered if her orientation simply didn't include him.

Once in the Plass, she stepped off the Lift straightaway and turned to look at the stone slab, now part of the wide paving kerb that ran around the fountain. Her gaze shifted as she watched the people who walked by, their eyes flicking over her in recognition of her presence, their gazes completely sliding passed Jack as he remained on the Lift.

She made eye contact with Jack. "What is it?"

He stepped down. "It's called a perception filter. They can sort of see us when we're on it, but we don't quite register. Like something in the corner of your eye. It only works on that exact spot." He pulled her back on, and she backed off as far as she could without stepping off, shoving her hands in the pockets of her hoodie. Jack resisted the temptation to sniff his armpits, pushed back his unbuttoned greatcoat and stuck his own hands in his trouser pockets. "Nice ass," he called to a young couple strolling passed, arms twined around each other. They ignored him.

"Which one?" asked the girl.

He looked again, considering. Then called out louder. "Nice asses."

The girl gave a chuckle and stepped off.

"Yours isn't bad either," commented Jack.

She rolled her eyes. "Bollocks. Flattery will get you nowhere."

"It usually gets me wherever I want."

"Not this time, buddy-boy."

Jack stepped off the Lift. "You really shouldn't be able to do that, you know."

Her gaze slid to the floor. A smile hovered around her mouth. "I have… clearer sight than some." She looked up. "How's it work?"

"No idea. But to hazard a guess, I'd say there was once a dimensionally transcendental chameleon circuit placed right on this spot which welded its perception properties to the spatial temporal rift. Basically, we know how to use it, not how it works."

"Seems to be an awful lot you don't know."

Jack quirked an eyebrow. "Do you know how your TV works?"

She had the grace to grin. "So it's a cloaking device. That's not so special; the Romulans have had those for ever."

Jack's brows drew together. "I guess you could call it that," he said. "Invisible Lift has a better ring though, don't you think?"

"I _think_ it's dangerous. Someone might fall in. You ought to put a barrier around it, or some of that orange tape, maybe, like at roadworks."

"But then it…" his voice tailed off as he realised she was actually so comfortable with her experience at the Hub that she could tease.

"Wouldn't be invisible. Mmmm." She began to walk off. "So where we going, then?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for staying this far. Please review. Warning for occasional coarse language._

**Two**

At the door of the well-patronized and exotically lit bar she halted, visibly wincing. "That's too… I… I get headaches."

They ended up in a tiny takeaway that also boasted a few tables and chairs a block or so further on. When Jack returned with their drinks she'd sat at a table and unzipped her hoodie, revealing a shapeless, collared cotton shirt whose colour might once have been blue.

Nodding her thanks as he set her coffee down before settling himself opposite, she inhaled deeply. "Smells good." She took a sip and grimaced. "Tastes godawful! I think I should have asked for water as well," she said, as he drank from the glass he'd brought over with his coffee.

Jack offered her his glass. "Want this?"

"No, you paid, I'll drink. Besides, I need the fix." She took another swallow, grimaced again, then set the cup down. "So. You catch aliens for a living?"

Jack grinned. "Yep, I sure do."

"And what else do you do? I mean, it wouldn't exactly be a full-time job; there can't be that many aliens flying about, at least not in Cardiff. If this were London, now… You'd be making a mint on over-time."

Jack's eyes narrowed. He set his elbows on the table. "The spaceship, on Christmas Day. You don't believe it was-"

"-a mass hallucination caused by psychotropic drugs in the water? Oh, please! We're not all stupid up here, you know."

"And the Battle?"

"Of Canary Wharf? Oh, I _know_ that was real." She tilted the cup in its saucer, slowly swirling the coffee around. "I had a cousin. Gwion. The best damn… A great doctor and amazing person. He was working in A & E at Albion Hospital, went to the Wharf when the reports started coming in. He… died." She let go her cup and made on odd gesture, setting her closed hand over her heart for a second. "If only Cybermen abided by the Three Laws… But that was London. Like I said, what else do you do?" She picked up the cup and drank, her eyes bright, enquiring, over the rim.

"You're right." Jack pulled in his chair, the better to show his love of his work. "We're not just alien-catchers, we're tech-scavengers and pioneers." Enthusiasm coloured his tone. "We salvage the stuff they leave behind and the debris that's washed up here."

"The flotsam and jetsam?"

He grinned. "If it's alien, it's ours! We find ways of using it. We're arming the human race against the future. The twenty-first century's-"

"When it all changes. And we've got to be ready. Yes. So who's in charge of you? The Wharf must have been Torchwood One," she said thoughtfully. "Is there a Torchwood Two?"

"Glasgow. Run by a very strange man. But he's not in charge of us. We're a bit of a renegade outfit, always had a reputation for working under the radar. That's how we managed to survive when Torchwood One was destroyed. No-one's in charge of us. We're separate from the government, outside the police, beyond the United Nations."

"Your work's that important?"

"Absolutely. If one power got hold of this stuff, they could use it for their own purposes."

"So could you."

"All alien technology stays at the Hub. No-one's allowed to take anything outside."

"That's a bit tough." The girl opened a packet of sugar, tipped it into a little heap on the table. "Having all that lovely, clever stuff in your hot little hands and not able to use it." She dipped her fingertip into the sugar then sucked it off like a little kid with a lollipop.

Jack folded his arms and gave her a long, considering look. "I don't think I've ever met anyone as accepting of all this as you, not the first time out, not even Suzie. You're not from Torchwood Four, are you?"

She shook her head. "Didn't even know there was a Torchwood Four. Where's that?"

"Not sure, it's kind of gone missing. Why does nothing surprise you?" He really wanted to know.

"Well, it's all so obvious."

"What is?"

"Don't you read?"

"Read what? The papers?"

"Oh, never mind. So if you're not allowed to take it out, what are you doing with all this 'stuff'? Saving it for a rainy day? Because, in case you hadn't noticed, it's starting to get wet out there already. This arming the human race, when you going to do it? Your army going to be ready when the storm comes? Do you even know when that is?"

"Do you?"

She offered no answer, dissatisfaction with his fencing apparent in every line of her suddenly tense body. Jack lazed back in his chair, shoving his hands deep in his trouser pockets. "So how'd you like the Hub? Fascinating, yes?"

She lounged back in her own chair and played with her sugar. "Puts you on about the same level as that Weevil - living in a sewer." She looked at him through long lashes.

"It's not a sewer, it's a- _was_ a tube station."

"In Cardiff?" She gave a snort of derision. "I think it's unhealthy. All that water lying around."

"You really don't think much of us, do you?"

She swung forward abruptly, face alive, eyes bright and shining. "I think what you deal with is completely mind-boggling!" Her voice filled with enthusiasm and delight. "What you do is utterly mind-blowing! I just don't think much of the _way_ you do it." She checked her watch. "Oh, shit! I have to go." Dusting off her fingers, she pushed back her chair, stood, and gave Jack a good-bye smile. "Be seeing you."

"No." He gave a slow shake of his head. "I don't think so."

"What?"

"Did you really think I was just going to let you go home?"

"Why not? I'm not going to tell anybody anything." Her hands were tensing on the back of the chair.

"You're dead right there."

"So who's going to stop me leaving?"

Jack gave her an amused look. Even with her standing, he hardly had to lift his eyes.

"You? And whose army? Those four down there? Cos that's the only army you've got, isn't it?"

"I don't need an army." The knuckles on the back of the chair were white, the blue-grey eyes looked ready to commit murder. He leant forward over the table, menacing, to see how she'd react. "Go on. Use those nice expensive trainers of yours. Run. I'll even give you a head start."

Her breathing racked up. "I don't run," she grated. "You want to kill me, you try and take me out here and now."

"Oh, don't be so melodramatic. I'm not going to kill you. I don't have to." He glanced down at her cup, then returned his gaze to her face. "Amnesia pill. My own recipe; a touch of denial, a dash of Retcon, and a little sedative. It should give you a good night's sleep; you look like you could use one. And in the morning you'll have forgotten all about Torchwood. And me." He finished his water. "Life's full of tragedies. Oh, the taste was nothing to do with me, I'm better than that. That was just lousy coffee."

"You - you…! Jesus! My shift starts in half an hour!"

He lifted a shoulder. "The rota or whatever will have been changed by now, probably was even before we left the Hub. If anyone gets into trouble it won't be you."

Finally, she moved - towards him, not away - fists clenched, the whole threatening effect ruined as a knee buckled.

Jack put out his hand to steady her. "Will you stop trying to manhandle me! I'm perfectly capable." He backed off, holding up his hands. She looked down at him, the blue-grey eyes a-blaze. Good job looks don't kill, he thought. At least, not looks from humans.

"What did you call that stuff? Retcon?" she spat. "Rat conned more like!" She folded her arms across her chest. "Well, you can bloody well take me home! Cos I'm not driving if you've slipped me a Mickey and I'm buggered if I'm going to waste my money on a taxi, and I'm sure as hell not going to be found in the street like some pisspot after the rugby!"

- - - - - - - -

She eyed the customised black SUV with active dislike. "Under the radar. Yeah, right." Inside, her only comment was, "Gas guzzler."

Jack ran his hands lovingly around the steering-wheel. "But so-o-o cool!"

"Boys and their toys. You know what they say, bigger the toy-"

"The smaller the dick. Yeah, I know. I also know it's untrue." Jack pulled smoothly away from the kerb. He turned on the CD player. Glen Miller floated from the speakers.

Arms folded tightly across her chest, the girl sat bolt upright staring straight ahead with only the odd series of rapid blinks and occasional shake of her head to betray the effects of the amnesia pill - at first. After a while, she started to slump, visibly relaxing as the sedative began to really take hold. To Jack's surprise, she began to hum along with one of Miller's less well-known melodies. A while later, he pulled up outside a large detached house in an upmarket suburb. "Nice place."

"I in… I inheritated it." She shook her head and tried again. "I inherited it. I inhe… in…" She gave up and moved on. "Quite a lot of things."

Jack made no attempt to help as she struggled with the car door handle. Her slam was so hard the SUV actually shook. Touching the switch for the window to roll down, he watched her progress as she headed up the drive. She was really wobbling now but he judged she'd make the front door. She unlocked the door, then smacked her head with the heel of her hand and made her way back to the car. Setting her forearms on his open window frame, she leaned heavily.

Her shirt gaped wide and Jack's eyes caught at the odd design in the centre of her chest. It was a dark shade of pink, as though faded over time from red; a dragon, its lithe torso and tail forming a circle about three centimetres across, its wings protectively enclosing an upright blade, the whole framed either side by the curve of small creamy, braless breast.

"That's my tatt. Betcha haven't seen one like that before," she slurred. She blinked hard. "Eyes up, buddy-boy; nothing else worth seeing down there." Jack didn't entirely agree but lifted his gaze to her face anyway. The blue-grey eyes were muddied. "Ianto Jones." She waggled a finger under his nose. "Take care."

He let her get to the door again, before calling out, "Hey!" She swung around too fast, staggered, and managed to correct herself. "What's your name? I'll know as soon as I get back to the Hub, anyway." She weaved back to the car, leaned right in this time. She smelled of the night damp, fresh, earthy, mingled with the barest hint of lavender, as though she wore the lovely old perfume just for herself.

"Merelyn. It's Merelyn." Her gaze dropped to his mouth and, after avoidance all night of touching him, to his utter surprise, she kissed him.

She tasted good. So good, in fact, for a fleeting second it actually crossed his mind to follow her up the drive. Apart from the golden oldie of making sure everyone had a good time, he had few rules about sex, but one of the inviolable in his handbook stated, no fucking anyone who didn't know exactly what they were doing. And even if she knew now, she wouldn't in about half an hour. When she pulled away, she remained looking at him, eyes muddier than ever but filled with that puzzlement he'd caught at the Hub.

"Good-bye, Merelyn Evans," he stated, softening the finality with a grin. "Sweet dreams."

Her answering grin came out lop-sided and sassy. "See you 'round, Captain Jack."

"No, you won't."

Her eyes focussed better and her raised eyebrow clearly asked if he was a betting man. "See you 'round," she repeated as she pushed herself off the car and made her erratic way to the door. She wiggled fingers at him from the doorway then slipped inside. The door shut with a thud.

Jack stared thoughtfully at it before sliding the SUV into gear and gunning the engine.

Merelyn leaned on the inside of the door and giggled. "I don't forget so easy." Hanging on to the wall, she successfully negotiated her way down the hall, swung through the study doorway and batted the light switch on. The blank screen of her PC stared hopefully at her. She blinked at it, her expression considering, then shook her finger. "Nope. S'no good looking at me like that. Too many whizfizz Torchwood techies for you." Grabbing a pen and pad, she plopped down on the fat leather settee and stroked the paper. "Low tech. Good stuff." Blinking hard, she focussed on the paper and shakily wrote TORCHWOOD in large letters vertically down the page. Sticking her tongue out of the corner of her mouth, she wrote more. Her hand moved for about twenty minutes, gradually slowing, the letters becoming stragglier. Finally she mumbled, "There. Done. So up yours, Cap'n Jack." The pen fell to the floor. Her eyes closed, then struggled open again. "Oh shit, I haven't cleaned my teeth." She almost managed to focus on the photo on top of the old bureau in the corner. "Sorry, Mamo." Her head dropped, her body slid sideways. She tried to swing her legs up onto the settee, failed, tried again, and gave up. Cuddling the pad to her chest like a kid with a teddy, she pushed her head more deeply into the cushions and surrendered completely to the sedative.

The room fell silent save for slight snores and slow ticks from the old clock that sat beside the photo.

- - - - - - - -

Merelyn's head pounded like a platoon of jackhammers on a parade ground. She made herself swallow with a throat that was completely dry and forced one eyelid open. "God," she mumbled. "What was I on last night?" Clutching her head, she slowly sat upright. The pad of paper slid from the cushions with a riffle of pages that sounded far too loud and smacked face down on the floor. She frowned at it. Groaning, she reached down and made a grab.

As her fingers made contact, her eyes widened. Thumping head completely forgotten, she sat bolt upright and held the pad between both hands, staring at the blank cardboard back.

"Torchwood," she whispered.

Quickly, she turned the pad over and stared again. It looked like a weird, untidy Scrabble game or crossword, some words horizontal, some vertical, some curving around words already written. She traced her finger over the horizontal names that cut through the vertical letters of Torchwood and the other words added vertically to the names, muttering, "Yes, yes. Oh yes." Finished, she hugged the pad to her chest for a long minute, a grin of delight slowly splitting her face. "Life's full of tragedies, is it? Not for me, Jack Harkness. Not today!" Suddenly, she launched herself off the settee and danced around the room, whooping, waving the pad around her head. Eventually, somewhat breathless, she collected herself.

She pulled her mobile from the pocket of her hoodie. "Hiya, Jude." She really couldn't wipe the grin from her face. "My shift got changed and I've forgotten what I'm on. Be a love and check for me." She waited, raking back her hair. "Okay. Thanks." She pulled the mobile from her ear, but, "Lyn! Lyn!" crackling from it made her put it back. "What was that? What?" Her face went as white as the paper pad. "No," she whispered. "Oh shit, no!" She sank back onto the settee. The phone fell from her hand. "_Shit_!" Tears began streaming down her face. "Bastard! Bloody _bastard!_"


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

As soon as Ianto unlocked the door of the 'tourist centre' the next morning, a small figure slipped inside.

"Morning, Mr Jones."

Astonishment made him stammer. "M-morning, Ms Evans."

She went over to a rack of postcards and studied them.

"C-can I help you?"

"Found what I want, thanks," she said, pulling out a card depicting the fountain in Roald Dahl Plass and bringing it over to the counter. "How much?"

"A pound. Please."

She handed over the coin, reached across for his biro by the computer, turned the card over and began to write.

"Do - do you need a stamp with that?" he asked.

"No thanks," she answered, standing on tiptoe and reaching across again, tucking the card into his breast pocket. She patted his pocket. "Special delivery's faster than the Royal Mail. And you're pretty special, Ianto Jones." She held out her hand and, too bemused not to, he took it, expecting her to shake it. Instead she simply held it for what felt like a long time, looking up at him. She had pretty eyes, he thought, startled he managed to notice; he didn't manage much at all these days. They were blue - no, grey - incredibly deep and clear, like looking into a well filled with clean, pure water.

"Ianto." Her voice was very gentle, soothing. "It will ease."

He frowned down at her.

"The pain." Her other hand came up so his was held securely between both hers. "It will ease." Her tone was low yet insistent, her gaze intense, compelling. "If you let it."

Her clasp felt strangely comforting. The light outside seemed to brighten; breathing became easier; his shoulders straightened.

Her mouth curved even more, satisfied. She tipped her head on one side. "You have great mouth, Ianto Jones. Be even better with a smile on it."

Her look was so cheeky he really couldn't help himself. His mouth curved up just a little.

"Wow. Look at that. Drop dead gorgeous." She reached up and touched his face with gentle fingers. "Lisa was a very lucky girl."

It didn't hurt quite as much as he'd imagined, hearing her name again, but his hand still tightened convulsively on the girl's.

She gradually withdrew her fingers from his. "I have to go." She halted at the door. "Be seeing you - and that smile - Ianto Jones." And she was gone, leaving him staring at the closing door.

"Ianto." Suzie's voice came over the com. "What the hell did _she_ want?"

"Nothing. Just a postcard." He pulled the card from his pocket, checked the address and headed downstairs.

- - - - - - - -

'_Thanks for the great night's sleep. And the great dreams!_

_ Same time tonight. Coffee's on me._

_ X marks the spot._'

Jack turned the card over. A cross had been drawn on a kerbstone in front of the fountain.

He flicked the card back and forth with the fingers of his other hand, then eventually set it aside. Ripping a page from a memo block, with rapid, accurate strokes of his pen he began to reproduce the design of Merelyn's tattoo. Finished, he waved it at Ianto, who still stood before his desk. "Ask Tosh - no, she's got too much on today. Ask Suzie to check that out, please." Ianto actually had a ghost of a smile on his lips and, instead of their usual haunted look, his eyes were dreamy. "You alright?"

"What?" Ianto shook his head as though clearing it. "I'm… fine." He sounded slightly surprised. "I feel fine."

Jack picked up the postcard and quirked an eyebrow. "You sure she didn't give you something else as well?"

"Yes, sir, she did." Ianto's smile became real. "She gave me a compliment. Said I have a great mouth."

"I'd noticed," said Jack. And if you continue to feel fine, he added to himself, I might just try to find out what great things it can do. "Amazingly clear sight that girl's got."

- - - - - - - -

She was there again on the CCTV. She stepped onto the Lift, spun slowly around waggling two take-away cups, then stepped off and took up her usual place in the shadows.

"Boo!" said Jack softly in her ear.

She visibly jumped. "Good evening, Captain Jack." She turned. "Not many people can make me do that."

"No, I don't suppose they can." Jack took one of the cups she held out and by mutual consent they strolled across the Plass towards the street.

"Mmm. It's good." He tipped his cup at her. "Thanks." She looked exhausted, huge circles around her eyes, shoulders hunched in the hoodie.

She drank from her own cup before saying, "So, I suppose you know everything."

"I _know_ some, I _believe_ I know more."

"So what do you know?"

"You're human."

That shocked her. "You what!"

"We checked the DNA from your cup, among other things." Jack had had his doubts for a while. "You're good ol' homo sapiens, Merelyn Evans. Born March 13, 1981, raised by your gran in Llanmyrddin, a village near Carmarthen, after your parents were killed in a car crash when you were six. Moved to Carmarthen to live with cousins after your gran died of cancer in '96. Straight A student at Llanmyrrdin primary. High school grades plummeted to Cs and Ds, partly, I imagine, due to the move and partly because you were hardly ever there. Bombed out totally in exams and failed every single subject."

She grimaced. "Teenage hormones got in the way. Not so much mine, everybody else's."

"Somehow or other you still managed to get a job as an ambulance technician-"

"I have friends in high NHS places."

"From which you were fired for 'interference with the treatment of a patient'. Currently you're a cleaner at the University Hospital of Wales where you're known only as Lyn Evans." Jack paused for another swallow of coffee.

"Yep, that's me. Lowest of the low in the hospital where my Mam was Senior Ortho and Trauma Consultant in A & E and my Da was a neurosurgeon before they died." The smile she flashed him was rather crooked. "Is that it?"

"That's all Tosh came up with, she was in a bit of a rush last night to meet her date."

She shook her head. "No, no date. She wasn't excited about sex. That was Owen Harper."

"Anyway, Tosh had other stuff today, so I did some more digging myself. You work mainly night-shifts. In Intensive Care of all places."

"Even ICU has to be cleaned."

"At night?" Jack caught a lamppost in the crook of his elbow and swung himself in front of her. Merelyn halted. "Less drugs are used when you're on shift than at any other time. And UHW has the lowest incident of death in ICU and the fastest recovery rate in all Wales."

"I really make that much difference?" Her look was suddenly shy, not quite believing.

Jack bent down to her level, the better to hold her gaze. "You do." A smile grew, lit the tired little face. He straightened. "I can't really blame Tosh for the incomplete data. I knew what I was looking for. She didn't see you do your thing with the Weevil, nor Ianto's face first thing this morning, nor watch you with my Hand."

"Your hand?"

"In the jar. It's mine."

"No it's not. It's alien."

"It belongs to me; I own it - kind of. But that's what I mean, you _know_ it's alien. You, Merelyn Evans, are a psychic. And you don't even need a pendant."

"A pendant? A talisman, you mean? Or a crystal ball?" She gave a gurgle of laughter and began to walk on, shaking her head. Jack caught up with her. "And you called me a psychic! Now who's being melodramatic? Oooooh, I see dead people. Actually, I do sometimes. Real corpses. I'm not even a proper telepath. I'm an empath with special skills in healing. I read emotions, not minds, especially if someone's traumatised through illness or accident or events that have left them mentally damaged. And I can help. Like Ianto. Watch out for him. What I did this morning only works for a while."

Jack grimaced. "I noticed."

She hunched more into the hoodie. "My skills are limited. He needs repeat 'doses' to really heal. I can't precog, either. Nor 'port. In fact, I've never met anyone who can 'port."

You have now, thought Jack. Though she probably wouldn't think it counted as it had relied on machines.

Words were spilling from her as if it was a relief to let them out. "And no kinesis, other than to help tissue heal and bone knit, if you can call that kinesis. Some people call what I do a gift. It isn't; there ain't no such thing as a free lunch. It's a talent. And a pretty poor one at that, in comparison with some. It's rare I hear words, and I can't feel passed someone's public mind unless I touch them. I don't even know exactly what I do. With mental trauma I think perhaps I alter the chemical balance in the brain, like a drug does, though it doesn't feel like that. I just kind of rethink the balance in a person's mind."

Jack's look questioned.

She stopped under a street lamp. "Take Ianto. Now there's one with a loud yell. His mind's wide open. He broadcasts - telepaths - loud and clear, not that he realises, and he's too old to train. He howls. Constantly. Like a dog with its leg caught in the jaws of a trap. Everything's dark in his world, he feels utterly alone. What happened to his Lisa, exactly?"

Briefly, Jack told her. "We had no choice."

She nodded. "I know. Gwion. He was - hurting. Then it changed and what was 'pathing me, wasn't trying to reach me for help but to 'upgrade' or destroy. It was implacable. And then… and then it was as if a light had gone out in my mind." She sipped her coffee, and pulled a face. "It's getting cold."

Jack took a long swallow from his own cup.

"Ianto blames himself for what Lisa did to those people. He remembers, feels, every tear and gash the pterodactyl gouged in her, hears every scream. Such a terrible choice he had to make - your lives or his love's. All that sits _here_ in his mind." She clenched a fist in front of her eyes. "Like a dense black cloud, or a - a tumour, and eats away at his soul. Worst of all, he's ashamed, so ashamed he couldn't pull the trigger himself. The ultimate betrayal - of both you _and_ Lisa and their love. He's on the edge of an abyss, Captain Jack. Don't let him fall."

"Not if I can help it."

"He knows what happened, Lisa's death, though horrible, was the best, the only, thing for her. But that knowledge, along with all the good memories of Lisa, or happiness or joy of any sort, is way over here, almost out of sight. All I did this morning was push the cloud back a little, bring the good thoughts forward, let the light through." Jack wrapped his free hand across his chest and leaned against the lamppost, listening to her explanation with intense concentration. "He doesn't forget what happened - he ought not, memories like that are important, he still grieves - but everything's in a better perspective so he can begin to get on with life, feel again, eventually enjoy. I can't describe it - what I do - any better than that. I just know it works." The corners of her mouth lifted. "I know as much about my talent as you do your alien techie stuff." Her mouth curved some more. "Maybe I just Feel the Force."

"What Force?"

"_The_ Force." She frowned up at him. "You're really not from around here, are you?"

He swung around the lamppost. "Well, how'd yuh guess, sugah?" he drawled.

"Anyone can put on an accent," she replied, her lilt suddenly flattened into accurate Glaswegian.

His gaze slid away, then he said, "You don't just heal, do you? Some of your shifts are on the terminal wards."

"I ease their passage if I can't help - if it's want they want - help them slip away. My Mamo - my gran - taught me how to set someone adrift. And she was my first. I didn't expect her to ask. I should have. Tough as old army boots, my Mamo, very Welsh, harder on herself than anyone else and almost as tough on me, trying to teach me to use this little talent of mine. She's where I first heard that phrase, about everything changing." Merelyn remembered the terror on the old woman's face, how she'd clutched at her with fingers weak from sickness and pain she could no longer control. _Dark. So dark. Be ready, Linnet. You've got to be ready._ "She was very frightened. Mamo wasn't scared of anything, not ever. I think it was a precog - a prediction."

"Did she ever predict anything else?"

The corners of Merelyn's mouth lifted. "Only the usual stuff. You know, that I'd meet a tall, dark, mysterious stranger."

Jack grinned. "She missed out handsome."

"Can't have been talking about you, then." And it wasn't a precog either, she added to herself, she was just being kind.

"So what did you learn about my team?"

She looked up at him through her lashes. "Going to cross my palm with silver, handsome stranger?"

Jack held out his empty cup. She took it. "Thanks for the coffee," he said and walked away.

He got almost all the way across the empty street before she called out, "Don't you trust them?"

He came back. "I never underestimate what I don't understand. The more I understand them, the more I can trust. If you can give me insights…"

"So you're not just checking to see what I can do." She shrugged. "I doubt I can tell you anything you don't already know. Untalented people don't get it, but I don't go barging into someone's mind unless there's a reason. It's unethical. Everyone has secrets, some more than others, and generally they're entitled to them." She gave Jack a very hard look which he returned with a bland one of his own. "Besides, why would I want to? Think about it - to feel every emotion from every passing stranger? I'd go stark staring bonkers. I expend more energy blocking emotions than actively feeling them. Still want to know?"

He nodded.

She slotted one empty cup inside the other. "I didn't get much. They all have natural shields; many people involved with important work do, though I think theirs have been reinforced." Merelyn thought of the words she'd written. "Toshiko is a little lonely and very confused about her sexuality; nature fighting nurture. Susie has a very tight shield, I didn't get anything except how much she loves her work - they all do. I'd need to touch both of them for more. Owen Harper I don't want to touch, thank you very much." Her lip curled. "His public mind is like a sewer. He thinks with his balls."

Jack remembered how Owen wouldn't let the Lizzie Lewis case drop after he'd seen an echo of her murder while using the quantum transducer. "He has a heart too."

"He's buried it pretty deep, then." Merelyn resumed walking.

Jack followed. He stuck his hands in his pockets. "He helped me access the hospital records."

She nodded slowly. "Remembers me now, does he? Took him long enough. Has he called me the Mouse yet?"

Jack had a hard time trying not to wince as he recalled the contempt in Owen's tone.

"So you know all about my 'interference with the treatment of a patient'?"

He nodded. They continued in silence, passed closed shops and locked doors.

After a while, she said, "She was nineteen, already living with liver disease that made her bloat like a balloon and stuffed up her menstrual cycle. Her boyfriend called us in when he found her on the bathroom floor near bleeding to death." She halted, the fluorescent display lights of the shop behind her making her look more tired and greyer than ever. "She was full-term pregnant and didn't know; even her specialist had missed it. But I knew; I could hear him - the baby - crying. I told them she was in labour - a bit forcefully." She gave a small, bitter laugh. "I was the Mouse that roared that day. Even the bloody paramedic didn't believe me. I'd been his tech for four years. Dear Doctor Harper had security escort me from the building. But I could still hear him, the baby, right up until he stopped. Another one with a good strong yell. Could have been a brilliant telepath with training. I bet your good Doctor-with-a-heart Owen Harper's report didn't mention that, did it? Did it even say I was right?"

"Yes."

"And he still got me thrown out the ambulance service." She resumed walking, her pace faster than before. Jack hurried to catch her up.

"How about me?" He couldn't not ask.

She cut him a look, then tossed the cups in a convenient bin and sat on the kerb with her feet in the road. Jack followed suit, one leg quartered under him, his arm resting on the other bent knee.

"Well, you're good ol' homo sapiens, too." Jack felt her hesitate. "I think. Which is why it's so odd. It's not a shield, you're not blocking me. I get nothing. Not even when…"

"Even when you kissed me? Is that why you did? To feel my mind?" She nodded. Jack took her hand. "And now?"

She clasped his hand between both her own, brows drawn together in a concentrated frown. Finally, she gave a small frustrated shake of her head. "It's like a - a great, black wall. It's almost as though you're dead - but you're not," she added hurriedly at the look on his face. "You're _so_ alive! You - you _crackle_ with it." Her clasp tightened. "You almost vibrate."

What had he expected? A real answer? Only one person in the universe could give him that, and it wasn't this little girl with her big, tired eyes and faded jeans.

She let go his hand and hugged her knees. "You're not going to try RatConning me again, are you?"

"I think you can keep our secret. You have lots of your own. You wouldn't want them coming out."

"So I'm to just go away, carry on cleaning, voluntarily forget all about you?"

"Yes."

"Well, I won't. I don't want silver. I want a job. And I'm going to jump up and down on that Lift of yours every night until you give me one."

"A job!" Jack stared at her in utter surprise, swallowing his laugh at her defiant face. "What can you possibly bring to my team that I don't already have?"

She shifted her position, sat so she fully faced him. "You said you want an army for what's coming. Where you going to get them from? This 'under the radar', it's all crap, really. 'Special ops'! D'you have any idea of the resentment your swanning in and taking over creates? You treat the very people you need as though they're all fools - the army, the police, SOCO, the hospital." She was suddenly alive, her hands punctuating her words with sharp gestures. "The rumours running around! The hospital's awash with them, God knows what it's like in CID! Even fools want respect, and most of them are not fools at all. They're professionals who are damn good at their jobs. And you lot make their jobs harder. You don't observe security protocols, contaminate crime scenes, and you're bloody rude with it. It's all take, take, take with you. All that specialist technology down there, I bet you could help sometimes when it is something they could know about. But do you? Oh no. Nothing to do with you. You're far too important. Just too busy." Contempt and passion made her eyes flash, but Jack thought he saw something else, too. At the back of it all, throughout her rant, lurked fear, real fear.

Her voice quietened, her gaze intensified. "One day, despite 'orders from above', somebody's going to tell you to piss off, and it might be _that_ day, the day we really need you and no-one will know until it's too late - for all of us."

The contempt he didn't give a damn about. The passion and fear made him ask, "So where would you come in?"

She took a deep breath. "You need to liaise, communicate, not walk all over. Give back - when you can. You, Captain Jack, need someone to remind you about feelings. Other people's. I can do that. There are trustworthy people out there, and I'd _know_ who they are, who you can recruit for your army without fear they'll betray you to this government or that, who'll believe in what you do. I can think of a few already."

"And your work at the hospital?"

Her gaze slid away. She picked at a loose thread in the knee of her jeans. "I've heard some call people like me homo superior. I don't feel superior, I feel tired." All the passion had left her voice. "The hospital's too much - and not enough. If you've managed to work out it's me affecting the recovery rate, someone else will soon too, and they'll want to control what I do, who I help, or push me so hard I'll burn out, or simply get rid of me because they're envious or just scared shitless." She turned her gaze on him and he read determination and a certain pride in the blue-grey eyes. "I can help you. Give me a job."

He gave her the respect of considering before saying, "No." Disappointment - no, more than that - hopelessness dulled her gaze, and he softened the stark negative with, "Anyway, I have a full team."

She gave a crooked smile. "Oh well, it was worth asking."

Raindrops began to spatter the road. She checked her watch. "Gotta go." She got up.

Jack tried, and couldn't. Instead he fell back on his elbows.

She stood looking down at him. "Underestimated me, haven't you, Captain Jack Harkness? I lied yesterday. '_Mostly_ harmless' I should have said. I made some RatCon of my own, my Mamo's recipe. She wouldn't have liked you at all. Flashy she'd have called you. Far too flashy."

Jack tried to put his hand to his suddenly spinning head, couldn't do that either. "Whoa! What's in it?"

"Eye of newt and toe of frog. Or was it toe of newt and eye of frog?" She shrugged. "I've never made it before. I hope I got it right, or you could be in for very painful night. No, actually I hope I got wrong. Don't worry, it won't wipe your memory - I want you to remember this - or knock you out. Just make you helpless for a bit. Your speech'll go soon, and your sight. How's it feel, being helpless? Fun last night, was it, trying to make me scared? Is that what you get off on? Why you do it? For the power? Look who's powerful now, harmless little me." She shoved him flat with her foot. "Maybe I ought to use my nice expensive trainers to leave you with permanent reminders." She held her foot over his face. "Rearrange that handsome face." The sole of the trainer came down, shoving his head to one side. Her foot ground into his cheek, ground his other cheek into the gravelly pavement. The pressure in his cheekbone and jaw was enormous. Grit slipped into his mouth. "But I won't." The awful pressure released and Jack sucked air into desperate lungs. "I'm better than that. Goodbye, Captain Jack." She turned her back and began to walk away.

The rain came heavier, ran into his ear, his eyes, his mouth. He blinked hard, at least he could do that. He coughed. His shirt was soaked where his jacket and coat had fallen open. He began to shiver. "Wai…!" His mouth felt as though it was filled with wool. He swallowed grit. It didn't help. "Took… home. Hand… Hub?"

She came back, bent down and thrust her face so close to his she became an unfocussed blur, hair hanging in dripping rats-tails about the white blob of her face. "I lost a patient last night because of you and your bloody RatCon!" Jack felt drops spray his face, wasn't sure if it was just rain, which was really beginning to belt now. "Three days ago some bastard high on speed smashed into his family's car. Their name was Richards. My boy's name was Daffyth. Davy. You got that? Davy Richards. Don't you _ever_ forget _his_ name! He was eight. He gave up because I wasn't there like I'd promised. And his little sister - she was lucky, she only got a broken leg - she can't understand where her da's gone or why her mam, who'll probably never walk again, can't stop crying. So no, I'm not giving you a hand. You can lie in the street like some pisspot!" She remained a blur, even when she walked away. Fast fading into black, the blur halted. "Christ, this is exactly what I mean. You stampede over all else in your bloody great boots like a bull elephant, oblivious to who or what you crush underfoot in your bid to 'save the world', thinking of nothing or no-one but your precious Torchwood! You stupid, selfish, _flashy_ arsehole!"

_So what do you think of Merelyn? Please, please review. (bangs head on desk) If you got this far you must think something, so please tell me! :) Oh, nearly forgot, addition to the disclaimer thingy - Merelyn's mine, and I love her even if nobody else does, with the exception of lovely Allestian.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

"Merelyn! Merelyn Evans!"

Merelyn turned without thinking. What now? She was so knackered that the hand on the door to exit the hospital was shaking like a Motor Neurone sufferer. Her shift had finished hours ago, but because of those interfering shits at Torchwood mucking things up, she'd been shoved yet again on a dayshift on the Admin floor, cleaning toilets for staff whose minds were full of frustration and boredom at a computer go-slow when they were trying to finalise pay accounts, so she'd had to get to her patients after, same as the day before. She'd spent far too long around little Jade Richards; the nursing staff on the kids' ortho ward weren't used to seeing her much, tendrils of suspicion had headed her way by the time she left. Shouldn't really have been there at all, the child's injuries didn't justify the energy she'd expended, but Jade's leg was knitting straight and fast now, and she'd eased her grandparents' grief just a little. And she hadn't been able to stay away; the little girl was so like her brother. Davy's mam she'd put off until the very last. Stupid, that. Should have seen her first, when she'd the most energy. The senior staff on the adult trauma ward knew her well, ignored her even though visiting time was long over. They'd sedated the woman, so she'd been able to simply sit, hold her hand, ease, lighten, feel her way down the broken spine, find the cracked vertebrae and damaged nerves, try to straighten the mess, while holding back the guilt that wanted to whisper, _I'm sorry, I'm sorry,_ over and over.

"Merelyn?" came the man's voice again as he hurried across reception. It was the new senior forensic pathologist, Doctor Williams. In his late forties, tall and spare with a slight stoop, his ascetic features and shaved head had already earned him the nickname of Doctor Death. He looked down at her a little uncertainly, his gaze switching from the 'Lyn Evans' nametag to her face. "You are Merelyn's daughter?" he asked, his Welsh accent flattened by an overlay of southern English. "Julia said…" he added, using the name of UHW's chief administrator like an entry ticket. "Are you really a cleaner?"

His astonishment that she was a mere cleaner, at how she looked, warred with urgency and hope. Merelyn's lips compressed. "I'm not as well qualified as my Mam. What do you want?" she asked, too tired to be diplomatic.

Urgency overrode doubt. "Your help."

Merelyn put her hand on the door again. "Can't it wait? I need to get out of here." Emotions from everyone in reception and beyond, from A and E, were beginning to leak past her block, all the fears and anxieties pulling her down. The beginning of one hell of a headache was starting to thud behind her eyes.

"'Scuse me," muttered a woman trying to get through the door.

The pathologist caught Merelyn's arm, drew her aside. "Of course, it can't wait!"

She gave him a really filthy look, coupled with as strong a mental command of, _Hands off! _as she could muster.

Immediately, he backed off, holding up his hands. "I'm sorry. That was incredibly rude. I do know better, only it's been so long I forgot." He offered his hand with a genuine smile. "Please, take it. Then you'll know."

His apology was gracious. Despite her near exhaustion, she paid him the compliment of being gracious back. She made the corners of her mouth lift. "Thank you, but I don't need to. You're wide open. My Mam taught you, I think. You worked with her?"

He nodded. "Here, when I was young and very green. She was a beautiful woman, in all kinds of ways." Merelyn felt admiration for her mother, good-humoured envy of her father, then sorrow. "When I heard… I was at the Radcliffe, Oxford, by then, couldn't even make the funeral." She inclined her head in acceptance of his unspoken condolences. "And your gran - Mamo - too."

"Mamo, at least, deserved her rest."

_An old woman chuckled contentedly._

A slippery newborn, red-faced, squalled a protest at his expulsion from the warm cocoon of his mother's womb. "Mamo delivered you," said Merelyn. "I'd know her touch anywhere."

He nodded. "I'm Llanmyrddin born."

Ignoring her thumping head, Merelyn shook off her exhaustion as best she could. "What do you need me for? 'Tisn't as though you've a patient for me."

His smile was grim. "I have a body. There was another murder last night."

"_Another_ murder?"

"Where have you been all week? Haven't you read the papers? Cardiff's got its very own serial killer. What a way to hit the headlines! Three victims - so far. Stabbings. The weapon's unusual. The cut's very clean with this last one. If you read it, give us the shape of the weapon, the police will have more to go on." Expectancy uppermost now, and exasperation. "They've got computer programmes for it now, of course, but the bloody technician's got the flu and no-one else knows how to use the damn programme."

Merelyn couldn't stop her shoulders hunching. "I can't do all my Mam did. I'm not as strong."

"But Julia said-"

"Julia should know better."

Disappointment and frustration. "But if we wait…" Fear loomed, connected with a bigger picture that was just out of her reach. "Please."

So. It had begun. The well-intentioned pleading that would one day lead to demands and then to threats, because there'd always be more than one small, insignificant talent could cope with.

So don't let it start. You're too tired. Say no. Leave. Now. Put your hand on the door, push it wide and go. Say it. Say no.

"Okay, I'll try." What did it matter? What the fuck else was she going to do with her life anyway? "But I can't promise anything."

The morgue was cold, more so after the warmth of the wards and Merelyn pulled her hoodie zip higher, wrinkling her nose at the stronger than usual smell of disinfectant.

Doctor Williams held up a gown. "I suppose we better, even though you'll need to touch him. I've finished anyway. Habit, really." He pulled a wry face. "Don't know why _I_ even bothered after…"

"Torchwood?"

"You should have heard SOCO swearing; they'd just set themselves up and got told to hop it. And who barges in as though they own the place, mucking up the crime scene yet again? Bloody Torchwood." Again that worry, clearer now she was becoming used to his thinking, that something bigger was going on. Other deaths of a different type, muggings, drownings, that he wasn't happy with. But how was he going to explain that teeth were involved, teeth that left bite-marks from jaws shaped unlike any he'd ever come across in his career? He'd be laughed out of court.

Well, none of that was her problem. She shivered. Until it was everyone's problem.

The pathologist carefully peeled back the sheet from the body on the slab.

A teenager, a red-headed boy, his pale cheek still as smooth as a child's, the paler skin of his torso disfigured by a long Y of autopsy stitches. "Has he been identified yet?"

"John Tucker, nineteen, of -"

"I meant formally."

He nodded. "Parents." She picked up pictures from his mind. John's da was as red-headed as his son, his mam brunette, both more bewildered than distressed. At first.

"You're well remembered then, John Tucker," she said, laying her hand gently on the cold forehead.

And she was John Tucker, yet herself also.

Dragged back from a black abyss, she dragged air into lungs that were empty, that some force made function, despite the great gaping hole in one. Rain poured down in utter silence all around, but not over her. She was wet, though, wet and so cold. Toshiko Sato knelt over her, drenched through, water running down her face. She spoke to her, to John, but Merelyn heard no sounds. The woman's face was urgent, questioning, but John could give no answers. Confusion gripped him. Owen Harper knelt by him also. Toshiko moved aside and the Captain took over. Satisfaction washed over Merelyn at the sight of one side of his face reddened by gravel rash. Then she realised fear filled John, and despair, and he was falling again into the abyss, dragging her with him. She fell headlong into the dark. Black, empty nothingness rushed to meet her…

_No. Go back._ An old woman's voice, stern and loving.

Merelyn jerked her hand away. Dear God, they'd brought him back. Somehow, with something, they'd resurrected him. Then lost him again when he was terrified almost to insanity. Legs buckling, she braced her hands on the slab, her mouth working to hold back vomit.

"Are you alright?" The pathologist was reaching out his hand.

She forced her spine to straighten, managed a small, shaky smile. "Fine. I'm fine." She looked down at the boy's body, didn't dare touch his face again. "Goodbye, John." She turned to the pathologist. "The wound's in the back. Turn him, please."

Her business-like manner galvanised him into action, and he moved to the other side of the slab and carefully rolled the body onto its side. Merelyn hauled in a breath, spread her hand over the damaged flesh.

No vision this time, other than the usual feeling her way past the entry, following the clean incision down, exactly as she would if John was alive. Her confidence grew at the ease with which she could follow its course and she poured in more of herself to follow it deeper, through flesh and shattered bone, into the soft tissue of the lung. A triple-bladed shape formed in her mind, and she knew it for the counterpart of what had brought John back, then felt a memory, saw the actual blade. Then its location.

The black abyss opened again. And swallowed her.

- - - - - - - -

Merelyn's eyelids flickered.

"Thank God." The pathologist was perched by her side on the edge of the counselling room's small settee, checking her pulse. "Steady as a rock, just like it's been the last couple of hours." Blinking, Merelyn lifted her head. "It's okay. You can sit up," he said, offering a helping hand. "I caught you as you went down; heads and tiles don't mix." He smiled reassuringly, but she caught the uncertainty, the slight worry.

She straightened, sat up properly. "I'm alright."

He was uneasy about repercussions - for himself and for her - that's why she was here and not in A & E. "It isn't like when your mother was here," he said, his tone apologetic. "Julia said not many know about you. Not that we spread it about back then, either, of course. Your mother did that once - collapse - after a motorway pile-up. Luckily, your dad was there, said she just needed sleep, that she was asleep…"

He kept talking, but Merelyn didn't hear, her mind had gone into overdrive. Not Ianto. Not Ianto, thank God, she'd have felt the other two murders; Ianto's mind was filled only with lost love and despair. Besides, he didn't have murder in him. But it could have been any of the others. But why? Gwion had said Torchwood existed to help humanity not destroy it. She cursed silently. If only she'd touched them all when she'd the chance, she might have felt something. But then, with the training they'd obviously had to stop talents from reading them… They never learned, were still the same paranoid, big-headed, pig-headed shits Gwion had called them. Especially that black wall of a captain. The Captain.

She grabbed the pathologist's sleeve. "John Tucker. When did he die? What time?"

"Between 9.15 and 9.30pm."

"You can be that accurate?"

He pulled a wry smile at her disbelieving face. "He left his mates at the pub at 9.10, left early because he was starting a new job today." The pathologist shook his head at the irony. "He was dead by 9.30, when the rain started. No water in the nasal passages or the undamaged lung."

So not the Captain - at least, not for John Tucker. Merelyn let go a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. She didn't want it to be the Captain, even if he was a flashy arsehole. She had to see him. She had to try to find out who without the whole team being jeopardised - especially Ianto - if there was only one, or perhaps two, involved. The Captain was right about one thing; Torchwood was important, far too important to be destroyed by a rogue. It could still be the Captain; he might still be involved with the other two deaths. It was a risk she had to take, hanging on to the fact that he couldn't have killed John Tucker. She began to heave herself off the settee. "I have to go."

Dr Williams caught her arm, let go almost straight away. "Sorry. Did you see it?" he demanded. She must have looked completely blank because he carried on, "The weapon? Did you see it?"

John Tucker was dead, an innocent was dead because of Torchwood.

_Dark. So Dark._

All innocents dead without Torchwood.

"No," she said. _I'm sorry, John._

Disappointment flooded through the pathologist.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, aloud this time.

"Don't look so woebegone." He put out his hand as though to lay it on hers, but stopped the gesture and simply smiled instead. "You tried. We'll find out anyway, as soon as that virus-whacked technician can lift a shaking hand to his keyboard." He stood. "Come on. Let's get you home."

"S'okay. My car's in the carpark." She hauled herself to her feet - and grabbed at him as her head swam.

"Drive? I think not. I'll give you a lift."

"No," she said quickly. "Just stick me in a taxi. There's bound to be one up by A & E." His eyes reflected the concern in his mind. "Your wife's going to be pissed you're so late again."

"Picked that up, did you?" He shrugged. "You'd think she'd be used to it by now. Alright, but if there isn't a taxi, I'm driving you."

Their progress to A & E was painfully slow and his concern grew. "I just need more sleep," she reassured him.

Thankfully there was a taxi and he helped her in, but left the door open. "Half a mo'." He disappeared into A & E, came running back with a Mars Bar from the vending machine. "Here. Your mam always used to be starving after. Make sure you eat more before you sleep." A sudden warm smile softened his austere features, took ten years off him. "I know the good you do. You're your mother's daughter, Merelyn Evans."

She gave a small smile at his accolade and he shut the door. The taxi pulled away and Merelyn sank back into the cushioning of the seat, managed to tear the wrapper off the bar with fingers that felt like uncooked sausages and began wolfing it down.

"So where we going, then, love?"

She mumbled around a huge mouthful of caramel and chocolate.

"Say again?"

She swallowed hard. "Roald Dahl Plass," she said thickly.

_So, do you like Merelyn? Hate her? What do you think of the melding of the TV eps in this AU of mine? Please review. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

It was later than she'd realised, almost midnight. The Plass was empty, unpopulated even by puddles from the rain of yesterday. The noise of the taxi driving off faded and the only sound was the soft rush of the fountain. Merelyn made her way slowly towards it. The Mars bar hadn't helped much, she still felt knackered. Her steps slowed more. Perhaps she should wait til morning, go to the tourist centre. She didn't even know if the Captain, if anyone, was around, though surely they'd work shifts too, wouldn't leave the place - the Hub - unattended. She halted, swaying, some paces from the shining wall of water. What if whoever was on shift was the murderer? She was in no shape to confront a killer.

A figure came around the great wall of water, metamorphosed into Suzie Costello. Such a beautiful woman with her height and slim figure elegant in a black jacket; her face amazing, exotic, with its high forehead and incredible cheekbones. Such an awful expression in the dark eyes.

"I knew you'd be back." No emotion came from her at all. But that expression told Merelyn everything. "You told Jack we should liaise with the police, the army. Help them. But they helped me. I saw the police report. They're waiting for a likeness." She slipped one strap of her leather bag off her shoulder, pulled out the knife Merelyn had felt from John Tucker, that she'd seen in the Torchwood armoury, from its depths. The triple blades gleamed dully, except where they were red-brown. "Anyway, this isn't much good now. You'll put up a fight so…" Suzie put the knife back in the bag and searched.

Fists ready for action, Merelyn closed the space between them as fast as she could. Not fast enough as Suzie saw, speeded her search, pulled out a gun as she dropped the bag to the ground and had Merelyn covered. "There, that's better," said Suzie. Merelyn stopped dead in her tracks and silently cursed; her sluggish reactions had lost her her chance. The open bag gaped and she caught sight of a metal gauntlet, knew it for the knife's counterpart, knew it had brought John Tucker back.

The hand holding the gun was perfectly steady. The woman would use it, as she had used the knife.

_Mamo, help me. Help me be strong, like you and Gwion and Mam._

"You couldn't just stay away, pretend to forget, could you?" Suzie sounded mildly aggrieved.

She hadn't taken the shot. Hope rose just a little, stiffened Merelyn's spine. "I can go away now. Forget. I'm good with secrets." She sent out the lightest of touches, as persuasive as she dared, and hit a wall almost as solid as the Captain's. Love - no, stronger than that - obsession for work, for Torchwood, was all she could feel.

"Secrets. Yes. That tattoo. He told me to check it out. It's Tosh's job really - research. But after the sloppy job she did on you that first night…" She heard contempt in Suzie's voice. "I found it, eventually - not that I told him - hidden away in the records at Carmarthen Museum. There's a manuscript, Twelfth century, an important find, unique. Should be out on display, not filed in a back room. They found it in a casket at the roots of Merlin's Oak; it got taken to the Museum with the last fragments of the tree in 1978." Suzie's tone was calm, conversational. She could have been giving a lecture. "It tells of a leper being cured by a woman wearing a medallion, a medallion just like your tattoo. The description's very detailed; Excalibur and the Pendragon the manuscript said. The Museum curator had added a note, said it sounded like a Bronze Age artefact. That's where they think the Arthurian legends stem from now, the sword in the stone and stuff. They used stone moulds to make their swords, poured in the molten bronze, drew the swords out, fully formed. But you'd know all that."

Why was the woman talking so much? She should have taken the shot straight away. Damn that block! What was with her? A need to show how clever she was? Was she getting off on this? Encourage her, then. The longer they stood here the more chance someone would see. A Torchwood someone preferably, most preferably the Captain, but anyone, anyone at all would do, just someone to see. But the Plass remained stubbornly empty.

"Yes, I know," said Merelyn, amazed her voice came out as even as Suzie's when her heart was pounding so hard she thought she'd throw up. "The Bedd Branwen Period of the Bronze Age to be exact. I wondered where the tattooist found the design, so checked it up on the Net, just like you. Your research find anything else?"

Suzie nodded. "Your name. A good, traditional Welsh name - Merelyn. Only it isn't, it just sounds like it. I couldn't find a single other Merelyn in the whole of Wales, except in your family. Always girls with you lot, only one a generation and every single one a Merelyn. Your mother, your grandmother, great-grandmother in an unbroken line as far back as the records go in your village, in Llanmyrddin. Now there's another good name. Real Welsh this time. Means Merlin's village." Suzie's mouth tilted into a mirthless smile. "Oh look, Arthur again."

Merelyn laughed gently. "He's good for tourists, Suzie. Romance. Pulls in the rich Americans every time. Like making out Carmarthen - Caerfyrddin - means Merlin's Castle instead of the Roman 'sea-fort'. Sheer economics."

Suzie carried on as though she hadn't even spoken. "That dragon in your tattoo. It's not the Pendragon at all, is it? It's protecting the sword, protecting Excalibur. And Excalibur is Arthur. And we all know who protected Arthur, who else has links with dragons."

Merelyn shrugged.

"And what do you get if you make your name masculine, take out the middle syllable?" continued Suzie, her voice rising. "What do you get, _Merelyn_?"

"Merlyn. You get Merlyn." Despite her obvious increasing emotion, the woman's block hadn't got so much as a hairline crack in it. God, she was strong. Merelyn felt weaker than ever by comparison, the effort to simply keep her tone neutral enormous. Come on, you Torchwood shits. Why do you only turn up when you're not wanted? "But it's just a name, that's all, not a bloodline, probably derived from Marilyn, altered to sound Welsh."

"It's a name that makes you a witch. Put Jack under your spell good and proper, didn't you? He said the Retcon didn't work. I mean, how could it not work? His research into you was shit, almost as crap as Tosh's." Suzie's beautiful mouth curled into a sneer. "He only checked the hospital records for you. I looked at your mother too. Bit higher up the hospital food chain, wasn't she? Even lower death rates when she was around. _He_ didn't say, but I know what you do, what you are. You, you're a fucking psychic, like your mother. You worm your way inside people's heads, see everything, what they really are." She shuddered. "But not me. I learned well. Best block he'd ever seen, that Torchwood psychologist said. He couldn't worm his way in, either. Thought he had, thought he'd found out all about me. But I fooled him. No-one's ever going to get inside me ever again. Especially not someone like you. You should have been drowned at birth!"

Almost at the end of her strength, Merelyn stayed silent, keeping her energy to hold herself rigidly upright.

"So how could Jack leave a psychic witch on the loose, one he'd actually let into the Hub? You're just too dangerous to leave running about, for Torchwood, for anyone. The others would agree, Tosh and Owen. And if I take you out, they'll be more likely to let me run. They understand about this stuff." Suzie pushed at the bag on the floor with her toe, making the knife and gauntlet clink together.

Her face crumpled a little. "God, I'm going to have to run. When the police get that report… It'll be splashed all over the papers. But I'll be gone. Far away." Her face crumpled more. Tears came into her eyes. "What am I gonna do? I love this job, I really loved it. And now I've got to run. Oh Christ! How can you do any other job after this? Cos it gets inside you. You do this job for long enough and you end up thinking… How we end up with all the Weevils and bollocks and shit? Is that what alien life is? Filth? This planet's so dirty, we're so dirty, that's all we get, the shit."

She couldn't let that pass, even if it made the woman angry. Merelyn forced her mouth to work. "Weevils aren't shit. They're people. Just a different sort of people. Just like those people you killed. Why did you do that?" She was desperate to know, to understand.

"For the glove." Suzie stepped forward a touch in enthusiasm. "I need the bodies. That's how it works - violent death. It was so easy. To bring them back I positioned myself behind the heads so they couldn't see me. It was the only way. The more I use the glove, the more I control it."

"_You_ control it. You killed three people!" The woman's gun hand had dropped a little but it didn't help. Merelyn's feet were welded to the pavement; her legs, though, were beginning to shake.

"If I get enough practice then think what the glove could do. If I could get it to work all the time, on anything, beyond the two minutes, it could resurrect!" Suzie was eager now. "Resurrection on demand for the whole world. Isn't that good?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Merelyn saw the kerbstone shift. Somehow she managed to keep her gaze fixed on the woman with the gun, even when the Captain rose silently on the Lift and hope shored up her tired limbs like steel.

"Isn't it though?" continued Suzie. "Well, that's what I've been working on it for - all day and all night. You've got to get inside this stuff."

Her gaze riveted to Suzie, Merelyn was so aware of the Captain she might as well have been staring straight at him. He simply stood, watching Suzie. What was he waiting for? Her eyes were tearing up with the effort of keeping her gaze away. Oh dear God, please don't let him be part of it too!

"You surrender yourself to it," Suzie was saying. "I did with the knife and the glove." Her voice changed. "And that's why the perception filter isn't going to work on me." She swung up her arm and fired with no hesitation. At the Captain.

Sheer shock held Merelyn still. He seemed to take an eternity to fall between her and Suzie, as though time itself slowed, couldn't believe he had gone. He finally landed on the pavement, his face toward his killer. The back of his head was… The back of his head simply wasn't. It seemed to take forever for Merelyn to manage to raise her eyes to Suzie's. Only then did time resume its normal pace.

The effort of taking a life, that most extreme of acts, had finally loosened the block a little; emotion was beginning to leak. Suzie's free hand was on her chest. Resolution. She was trying to find enough resolution to kill again. She lifted the gun, took aim. Her hand was shaking a touch. "You really shouldn't have done that - shot him, the great Torchwood leader. Cos that makes me leader now, and I'll have to shoot you. Leave this job? It's all I've got. I could never leave this. And now I won't have to. They'll believe me, Owen and Tosh. They know Jack's weird. Weird enough to have used the knife, kill three fools. He taught me that, to kill." She pushed at the Captain's body with her toe. "The biggest fool of them all, my Captain. Saw it all on the CCTV and just had to come rushing to the rescue, the rescue of filth like you." She licked her lips, determination growing. "Cos that's what you are." She moved forward, around the Captain's body. "Filth."

Merelyn backed on legs that shook worse now than before. "Mamo," she whispered. "Help me."

Conviction, stronger now. "Just filth, that's all. Like a Weevil."

With a final effort, Merelyn projected compassion at Suzie; compassion for her, Merelyn.

Suzie's hand fell from her chest. "Don't try to worm your way inside my head." Merelyn felt the hate, and knew her talent had killed her. The gun hand steadied, the finger began to tighten on the trigger.

_Mamo!_

No-one helped. No-one came. Merelyn squeezed her eyes shut. To her shame, she felt tears trickle down her face. She was crying for herself. So what, no-one else would. She was dead, with no-one to remember her.

"Put down the gun."

The Captain stood behind Suzie. Merelyn inhaled in shock, then almost sobbed with relief.

Eyes wide, Suzie turned in time to see the bullet wound in his forehead rapidly healing. "Suzie, it's over." He put out his hand for the gun. "Now come with me."

Disbelief became hopelessness. The woman turned from the Captain, her eyes slid over Merelyn as though she didn't even exist. Her gaze distanced.

The block crumbled completely. "No!" yelled Merelyn, stumbling forward.

The report echoed around the Plass.

Merelyn fell to her knees. "No," she whispered, rocking herself. The awful expression had left Suzie's eyes. Death had wiped it away, had wiped everything away. Hauling herself to her feet, Merelyn whirled on the tall man who stood like a statue, his hand still held out.

The body rip doubled him up, and she followed it with a right hook that caught him under the ear. The rest of her punches went nowhere as he blocked them, grabbed her wrists. "You could have stopped her!" she cried as she struggled to free herself. "You were close enough!"

"I didn't realise!"

"You should have stopped her!"

"Sometimes, death is… better." His eyes bored into hers. "She wanted it to end. You felt it, didn't you?" His fingers dug harder into the tendons of her wrists. "Didn't you? She wanted it over."

She'd seen it all as the block went down, knew everything, all the whys. Seen the deep, dark secret hidden behind the confidence and cleverness, understood the fear, and the hate, felt the bitter shame and self-loathing, the despair, the desire for death. Wrenching herself out of his hands, she fell to her knees again beside the body. Her voice cracked as she whispered, "You should have stopped her." She brushed shaking fingers over the dark hair. "I could have helped."

- - - - - - - -

"For torture. Slice you up until you die, then bring you back so you can go through it all over again. But I'm not sure. There's a more, a - a greater connection…" Merelyn shook her head. "I can't…" She looked up at the Captain. "Isn't torture enough?" He gave a brief nod and she released the alien artefacts from her mind, removed her hands from them, and let Ianto finish packing them into their metal prison.

Drained, she slumped back in the office chair, not really caring that Toshiko and Owen were staring at her as though she, too, was an alien. Reaching to the Captain's desk with shaking hands, she managed to grab the mug of hot chocolate without spilling any and sipped the rich mixture. Ianto had brought it her. As he'd given her the mug, trying not to feel guilty, she'd delved as fast as she could into his wide-open mind for something she had to know, before using the last of her energy to block, shield from his chaotic emotions.

She looked around at the remaining members of Torchwood, wondered vaguely what they were feeling, felt no desire to lower her block to try to find out. Toshiko slipped forward, set a small object on the desk. The woman's eyes darted to the Captain. She looked shocked - as they all did - and ashamed. Owen, too, came forward, his expression more devil-may-care, and put what looked like a perfume bottle beside Toshiko's object. Merelyn suddenly realised that Suzie wasn't the only one unable to keep her hot little hands off lovely, clever alien stuff. She looked over at the Captain, and took no satisfaction at all in his tight, closed-in face.

She remained sitting, hands around the mug, hanging on to its warmth, as they all silently disappeared. Her eyelids drooped. The mug began to slip from her fingers. She roused enough to lean forward and set it and her arms on the desk. Her head sank down on her arms and she closed her eyes.

She roused a little as strong arms lifted, carried, lay her carefully down. There was no mind contact just a faint crackle, so it must be the Captain who was tucking a blanket around her. She forced her eyes open. She was on the settee and he was staring down at her with that same closed-in expression. He pulled the blanket more firmly up to her chin before moving away. Merelyn's eyes drifted shut to the sight of him pacing, hands deep in his pockets, his gaze occasionally flicking to her, ceaselessly pacing.

- - - - - - - -

It was quiet here on the great roof, the noise of humanity, both aural and mental, dulled to the faintest of murmurs, the peace broken only by the plaintive cries of gulls winging and wheeling their way below clouds scudding across the grey sky. The sea was darker shades of grey beneath and the smell of salt filled Merelyn's nose. Beside her, the Captain's open grey-blue greatcoat flapped.

His cheek wasn't as red as last night. "The others. You didn't tell them about Mamo's potion." Ianto had woken her with coffee and toast, a smile as beautiful and shy as a spring dawn on a dark hillside, and no knowledge of how his Captain had come by the gravel rash on his face.

"You didn't tell them about me dying."

Ianto had no knowledge his Captain could resurrect either, as that single swift probe last night had told her. She shrugged. "Everyone's entitled to a secret or two."

"Something happened to me. A long story and far away." _A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away,_ echoed through her mind, but she felt no inclination to say the words out loud. "And now I can't die."

"I noticed."

He gave a short bark of laughter. "Not even that fazes you. It freaks most people out. Or they rationalize it away."

A dozen kids, their faces contorted with emotions ranging from disgust to fear to hate, circled her. _Freak! Freak! Freak!_ "I'm not most people." She allowed her curiosity one question. "So you can't die ever?"

He lifted a shoulder, his face bleak. Then covered it with a grin - not much of a grin, but a grin nevertheless. "Not so far."

You smile far too much, Jack Harkness, thought Merelyn. One day she'd call him Lazarus Long, but not now. "It isn't a gift," she said.

It wasn't a question, but Jack said, "No."

"But useful sometimes - for Torchwood." A very understanding smile lit the blue-grey eyes.

"Yeah." He gave a crooked grin of his own.

"And for me. Thank you." She understood, too, that he'd taken the shot because it gave her the best chance.

He shrugged away her thanks with a slight lift of his shoulder.

They stood, gazing out to sea. The wind whipped Merelyn's hair across her face.

"You spiked my coffee before you asked for a job," he stated.

The big blue-grey eyes turned on him. "Davy's dead because of you."

He nodded. "Daffyth Richards. I got Tosh to find me a photo. I won't forget him."

A slow nod back was all he got but it was enough to ease his mind just a touch. Then her gaze distanced and swept around the view. She took in a huge lungful of air. "I envy you this, Captain Jack." She turned, began to walk away.

"Jack. It's just Jack. No-one in the team uses titles. Except Ianto, but that's just Ianto. There's a vacancy. Want to fill it?"

She halted, turned slowly, came back with unhurried steps. Her chin tilted a proud degree. "Why?"

Her eyes demanded the truth. This had to be for the right reasons, and not because Torchwood had almost got her killed. "Maybe you're right. Maybe - just maybe - our boots are a touch on the large side. Torchwood One was guilty of arrogance; it helped get them destroyed. Don't want that happening to us. And we could do more to help. And yes, we should recruit - as long as it doesn't put us in jeopardy."

She stared as though she didn't quite believe.

"You know how to get an opponent down to your level, too. Useful."

"Couldn't keep you there, though." Jack was surprised at the frustration and dissatisfaction in her tone.

"I've seen more combat than you've drunk espresso." Her shoulders remained hunched. Jack quirked an eyebrow. "You could come up here sometimes."

"Yes," she said quickly as though she thought he might change his mind. She wrapped her arms around herself, her grin growing. "Yes - Jack."

Jack laughed. Hugging herself in the old grey hoodie, she looked about sixteen, as though the biggest jock in high school had asked her to the Prom. Only she couldn't go to the Prom in those clothes. "You got anything better to wear? We have standards to keep."

Her lip curled. "Flashy ones."

"_They_ may be okay for a hospital cleaner. They will not do for Torchwood's recruitment officer."

"I don't… I'm not good at clothes."

"We need Trine-e and Zu-zana. But…" He gave a careless hitch of his shoulders. "Tosh and me will have to do. The boys can take care of the store on their own for once."

"You?" Her eyes were round with astonishment.

"I _am_ good at clothes."

"I hate shopping."

"And you looking like you've just come from a fashion shoot."

Resentment was written all over her face.

He leaned down to her level. "You can come up here after."

"I'll need to." She hugged herself tighter, defending herself now.

A flash of dark-pink on her chest caught Jack's eye. "The CCTV. That close to the Lift, I got sound as well. What Suzie said, about your tattoo and all those Merelyns. You're not really…?"

The blue-grey eyes were thoughtful. "What do you think?"

He must have looked unsure because she suddenly laughed. "Merelyn - Merlin! Oh, please. Gimme a break!"

_Well, that's your intro to Merelyn. I hope you didn't all hate her cos she shoves Gwen out of the way! Sorry about that. I love Gwen, I really do, when I'm watching the eps, but my universe just ain't big enough for both her and Merelyn, so she just had to go! :)) There is more to come, and there will be the sex, and some violence, that I said there'd be, but I may not be able to add any more for a while. RL has hit with a bang and both my fantasizing and scribbling has had to come to a halt, at least for a while. For those of you who may not have liked the melding of eps with my own stuff, I don't plan to follow each TV ep in such depth as I did 'Everything Changes'. Some get missed out completely while others only get a mention in passing. Okay, gtg._

_Nearly forgot. What do think of a telepathic Ianto, even one who doesn't yet realise he is??_


	6. Chapter 6

_Hi there!_

_By ignoring Real Life, which got - and still is - sucky, have managed to get this up faster than anticipated!_

_A couple of quick reminders: Some episodes happen in a different order here. 'Greeks Bearing Gifts' and 'Ghost Machine' happened some time ago, 'Cyberwoman' about two weeks ago. Chapter One opened one day before 'Everything Changes'. Keep the changes that makes clear in your mind!_

_Bit of fun, this chapter. Stemmed from image of Jack in towel strutting through salon, and JB's love of clothes!  
_

_Rated M for occasional coarse language and nudity._

_All the usual "Torchwood isn't mine, it belongs to RTD and the BBC" disclaimers apply - except for Merelyn. She's mine and I love her!_

**Six**

She slipped in as soon as the tourist centre opened. By the time they were halfway through a session in the shooting gallery Jack was wondering if he'd made a hell of an error of judgement. He felt her distaste, her reluctance to even pick up the weapons. She did everything right, followed his instructions to the letter; her stance, the way she brought up the gun, all perfect, yet she missed every single target.

"Relax!" he commanded for the dozenth time.

"How can you relax when you're ending someone's life?"

He pulled off his protective glasses. "You don't _want_ to hit them, do you?"

"I'm a healer, not a killer!" The defiance in her tone was belied by tears he could see even through the lenses of her glasses.

He glanced down at the array of weapons spread out on the table. "I hope you never have to use any of these." He held her gaze for a long moment before continuing, "Torchwood is - we are - the first line of defence. Sometimes we have had to kill. We've had to kill and not regret it."

The determination in her face told him she understood, but still her shots went wide. Eventually, in sheer frustration, he handed her a .22 pistol, saying, "It only makes an itty bitty little hole."

A glimmer of a smile lightened her face. "A noisy cricket, is it? Thanks, K." She actually did better with the smaller but generally more inaccurate weapon, chipping a couple of the targets. "So what level of Klan are you?" she asked as she reloaded. "Grand Master?"

Jack was totally gobsmacked. "Are you calling me _racist_?"

She gestured at the targets. "None of them look human, even the ones that are supposed to. We all have the potential to be monsters. Fair can be foul and foul fair."

He crossed his arms and tipped his chin at one of the figures. "That Weevil there. It's heading for Ianto."

The bullet found its mark in the alien's forehead, off-centre admittedly, but well and truly in. He decided to call it a day so she ended on a bit of a high, not bothering to mention that a single shot from a .22 was hardly going to give the alien a headache, let alone kill it.

As they secured the weapons back in the armoury, he nodded at the .22. "That's yours. If I give the order, you wear it. And, if necessary, you use it."

Despite her sass in the gallery, he could see her ego was bruised from the shooting session so decided to take the rest of the day as lightly as possible. Besides, a little fun wouldn't go amiss, help dispel the shadow of Suzie. He drove to the most exclusive, newest shopping mall Cardiff boasted, all glass, high ceilings and incredible lighting. The opening of a film and TV studio ten years before had started the ball rolling on an economic boom for the area. The studio used Cardiff locations in series' that had become top rating shows both in the UK and abroad, adding glamour to a city that Jack loved and now the tourists flocked in, hence the new mall. He steered the girls through the huge, plush department store towards the Spa, Tosh torn between resentment at being dragged from her beloved terminal for something that wasn't work and curiosity and wariness about his new recruit and Merelyn torn between resentment and resentment.

"This isn't clothes shopping," accused Merelyn as they approached the reception area.

"Hair first." He saw her take a breath ready to protest. "It needs a trim." He turned his back and smiled at the receptionist. Lashes fluttered; he was obviously remembered. "She," he said, indicating Merelyn, "has an appointment with Ritchie. Tosh?" He flashed the platinum card.

Tosh's eyes lit. "Foot massage and pedicure for me, thanks."

"And I need a massage. Who's available?"

The receptionist checked the appointment book. "Delia or…" A long, delicately painted nail ran down the page. "Or Cameron are free."

"Nothing in here will be free," muttered Merelyn, her gaze wandering around the muted and highly expensive furnishings.

"Hmmm," mused Jack. "Cameron today."

The massage was progressing nicely and he was beginning to feel agreeably relaxed when a discreet tap completely disrupted the atmosphere. The masseur scrambled off the table as Ritchie poked his head around the door. His face with its beautiful cheekbones bequeathed by some distant Nubian ancestor was marred by a harassed look, a look that altered to envious as he took in the masseur's rumpled uniform and Jack's lack of strategically placed towel. "Full body treatment, I take it?"

"Ritchie, when do I ever want less than the works?" Jack linked his fingers behind his head. "Want to help?"

"I'm supposed to be giving the works to that stray cat you brought in, remember? Which gutter did you find her in?"

"Giving you grief, is she?" Jack swung his legs down from the table and grabbed a towel.

"Grief? She won't let me near her. It's only a few foils. And the language! Foul as a ten quid slapper."

Jack wrapped the towel around his hips. He threw the masseur a dazzling smile. "I'll be two minutes. Keep the oil warm - and everything else hot."

All heads turned as he stalked through the salon.

"That fucking moron is trying to turn me into a blonde fucking bimbo!" hissed Merelyn as he strode up to her chair. Her damp hair hung limp around her face.

He swung the chair around and braced his hands on the arms. "He is not a moron. He's the best in Cardiff, a professional who's damn good at his job. And you are making his job harder. Accord him some respect. And flush the foul mouth down a toilet - unless you want to carry on cleaning them for a living!"

She glared defiantly at him.

Jack glared back.

Her gaze wavered. "He hates me!"

"What he hates is your hair. As he should. The only good thing about it is that it was clean before we got here!"

Her gaze dropped completely. "I… I'm sor…" She dug her fingers into her temples. "It's so noisy in here. My head feels like a demolition gang's jackhammering in every corner of it." The noise level wasn't that bad. "I… I didn't sleep well. Blocking… I'm not blocking properly." Frustration coloured her tone that Jack felt was directed at herself. "And he keeps _touching_ me!"

The penny dropped. "Emotions."

She nodded, wincing. "What is it with these places? It's always problems and sex and worries and sex and more blo- sex! They're worse than the hospital."

"Hairdressers - the unqualified psychologists and agony aunts of the world. It's the same in every system of the universe. Would it help if you were on your own somewhere?"

"A bit."

Jack turned to the stylist who stood, arms folded, a discreet distance away. "Rich, do you have a quiet little room where you can do this?"

The man rolled his eyes. "I'll find somewhere - because it's you."

"Add the inconvenience to the bill." Jack put his arm around his shoulders, drew him aside. "Do me a favour. Pretend she's beautiful. More than that, _believe_ she's beautiful." Ritchie's incredulous look made him add, "You're good, Rich. You can make her beautiful. You know you can."

Ritchie shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. "You owe me, Jack. Huge."

"I'll pay you back. With interest."

"Oh, get back to Cam, before he gets cold, and let me get back to the job I'm so good at." He went over to Merelyn, muttering, "Beautiful. She's beautiful. She _is_ beautiful."

She wasn't beautiful, but she was better. The highlights Ritchie had added were very subtle and looked completely natural, blending with the soft light-brown hair, yet giving shine and movement where all had been dull and mousey. The cut was even better, the overall length hardly shorter yet framing her face perfectly, softening the rather heavy jawline. Not even Ritchie's best efforts, however, could soften her expression.

"You just…" she hissed. "In here!"

He didn't bother to pretend to not understand. "You lot and your quaint little ideas about same gender sex."

"You think I'm homophobic? You could have been fu-fondling a nine-tentacled alien for all I care! Under the radar? You didn't even lock the door!"

Jack shrugged. "Cam says it adds to the… atmosphere. Anyway, I thought I was a black wall."

"You are, but _he's_ leaking all over the place." Her gaze cut to the masseur, uniform now perfect, who'd followed Jack out and stood checking the appointment book.

Jack's eyes dropped.

Merelyn's eyes rolled. "His mind, Jack. His mind's leaking!"

Jack lounged against the reception counter. "Like what you saw?"

"I don't see. I feel."

"Even better." He leaned down, ran one finger from temple to chin, not touching her but so the inside of the curve of hair that framed her face grazed the back of his finger. The faintest of lavender caught his nose. "Did it _feel_ good?"

She didn't jerk away as he'd half expected, but neither did her gaze drop to his mouth. Instead the big blue-grey eyes remained looking steadily into his. Her voice was just as steady as she said, "So what's the damage?" and pulled out her wallet.

"Put that away."

"Don't think I can't afford this." Jack had a feeling he was going to become very familiar with that particular tilt of her chin.

"I know precisely what you can afford. You 'inheritated' quite a lot; a house in the best part of Cardiff, another - and a considerable amount of land - in Llanmyrddin, as well as a nice little portfolio of investments." He took out his own old leather wallet. "But I'm paying for this."

"You are not! I'd rather not have had to 'inheritate' so much as a speck of dust in the back of my Mam and Da's broom cupboard. As it is, I pay my own way."

"Torchwood is paying for this," he corrected, waving the platinum card under her nose. He leaned down again to her level. "It's a business expense."

Her expression put him in mind of a mule whose job it had once been to carry him across the Andes. His heels still had bruises from being jammed repeatedly into the animal's immovable flanks.

"Don't be an idiot." Tosh appeared at Jack's side, twitched the card out of his fingers and handed it to the cashier. "He'll get back every penny he spends on you today ten times over. And if you're right for this job, you won't begrudge him a single one."

Ten minutes later, Merelyn's fingers were white where they clutched the edge of the long-legged stool she perched on in the store's beauty product department. Jack got the distinct impression they were the only thing that held her in the seat. She was visibly wincing as she inclined her rigid body away from the imminent touch of the 'Skin Consultant'.

"She doesn't need that." His voice came out sharper than he intended and a perfectly plucked eyebrow arched at him. "Her skin's good. She needs enhancements - not a cover job." The eyebrow in the beautifully painted face arched higher. He smiled to remove the sting from his words. "And anyway, she'll never bother to put it on."

"Dead right there," ground out Merelyn through clenched teeth.

A manicured hand fluttered. "Perhaps you…?" A second eyebrow joined the first.

_Fair is foul…_ "Well, it's been a while." He ran his eyes over the products on the counter, picked out what he needed, and set to work.

Within five minutes, several other consultants had drifted over and Tosh was jostling with the original for best position by his elbow. Tosh won. Her gaze switched from Merelyn's face to his. "How do you…?"

Blue-grey eyes opened and Jack jerked away the mascara wand just in time. "That would be because where he's from everyone uses it," said Merelyn. "Men as well."

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow. "Black wall?"

Merelyn smirked. "Just a guess."

He shook the wand. "Shut 'em."

Two minutes later he set the lip-brush aside. "There. All done."

Tosh stared. "She looks… amazing." Her gaze caught Merelyn's hardening jaw. "_You_ look amazing," she corrected. She turned quickly to Jack. "What shades for me…?"

Jack checked her skin tone, picked out products from the displays, and set them on the counter beside those he'd used for Merelyn.

"I look like a doll." Merelyn was staring into the mirror on the counter.

There was a chorus of protests.

Jack laughed. "'A great big beautiful doll,'" he warbled, just about in tune. He suddenly turned to Tosh, swept her into his arms, and whirled her around. "'Let me put my arms around you. I could never live without you.'" He let her go, caught up the most senior of the consultants and fox-trotted perfectly with her through the maze of customers, counters and display stands.

"Is he always like this?" asked Merelyn, eyes following his progress.

"Not often." Tosh thought of the dark in Jack. "Not often enough," she said as Jack ended the dance by handing the platinum card to his partner with a courtly bow. "This isn't…" She almost said 'normal' but changed her mind. Shops and shopping ought to be - _was_ - normal. She reminded herself that Torchwood kept it normal. "We don't get a lot of time for this sort of thing."

As they trailed behind Jack through a myriad of sweet scents and aromas, Merelyn called out, "No perfume, Mr Rochester?"

His greatcoat swirled as he turned. "The lavender is fine, Miss Eyre. Suits you."

Her mouth opened but she didn't say anything, a nice change. The faint pink that stained her cheeks under the light gloss of make-up suited her too.

The coat swirled again and he strode on, chuckling.

"So at least you read the classics," he heard muttered behind him.

As they neared the fitting room in the women's department, he noticed the pained expression on Merelyn's face. "Oh, for…! All negative? Isn't anyone happy with how they look?"

"Two."

"Females!"

He yanked out his wallet, chose the pest exterminator business card and thrust it under the nose of the middle-aged assistant at the counter by the fitting room entrance. "We've had reports of mice-"

"That was the café in Splott," interrupted Tosh. "It's Theraphosa blondii here. Tarantulas," she added at the woman's blank look. The woman's hand went to her ample bosom; she gave a squeak. "We understand they came in with a shipment of hats from Brazil. They've been breeding in the air ducts."

Stood to one side, Merelyn watched Tosh and Jack's performance, arms folded, her look sardonic.

"We've located a nest in the roof cavity just above there," continued Tosh indicating the fitting room. "We really need to get rid of them before they bite anyone. Not that they're fatal, of course. Though there were those two cases in Milan… Allergic reactions. Skin peeled like rotting melons, all black and purple. And the goo… Nasty way to go."

The assistant gave another squeak. Her eyes darted from Tosh to Jack who nodded. She stepped toward the fitting room then recoiled, her eyes scanning the ceiling. "Ladies, ladies!" she called, voice loud but wobbly. "These rooms have to be closed. A problem with…" Her eyes rolled to Jack, clearly asking for help.

"The air-con."

"The air-conditioning and - and spiders. Please vacate them immediately." Small shrieks issued from the room. "The - the fitting room to the left of the lifts is still open. So sorry for the inconvenience." The assistant sought Jack's reassurance. He smiled a well done and she turned and fled.

"Mice?" hissed Tosh to Jack as the women streamed passed. "Get real. They're pets, not pests!"

"But I _like_ spiders," protested a small boy being dragged forcibly out by his mother.

"Not these ones," said Merelyn. "Fangs. Huge fangs." She bared her teeth. The mother yanked the boy away. "Regular David Attenborough, that one. He likes spiders alright. Likes pulling their legs off."

Jack lounged on the sofa by the fitting room entrance. Tosh came out loaded up with rejects. She dumped the clothes by his side. "She has the most amazing abs and shoulders I've seen outside a sports stadium!" Her tone was hushed, her pupils dilated. "She must really work out. But there was no gym membership on her credit card records."

He shook his head. "Too much testosterone. She'll train at home. There'll be gym equipment among her purchases somewhere. Maybe a personal trainer." He rubbed under his ear. "Definitely a punching bag."

Tosh gave little laugh. "'Mouse'. If Owen could see her now…"

Jack imagined Merelyn creeping around the hospital corridors in the old hoodie, shying away - what did she call it? - blocking. Touching no-one to avoid the mental blast, except when she needed to use her 'talent' to heal. It occurred to him that Tosh wasn't the only one who was a little lonely. "Interested?"

"No," came the quick reply. "No really, I'm not. I don't want her touching me. I've read minds, Jack. I don't want her reading mine."

He'd told Tosh and Owen about Merelyn's 'touch'. Having seen the looks on their faces when she'd held the glove and the knife, they needed to know what she could and couldn't do. "Finding out all your little secrets?"

"Well, would you?"

He shrugged. "You know me, Tosh. My life's an open book." Tosh snorted. "Anyway, I told you, she can't read minds, only emotions. And, unlike you with that pendant, she has control over what she does. She only looks when she needs to." Tosh snorted again. "Has she tried to touch you?"

"No-o," she admitted reluctantly.

"She won't. Says it's unethical to peek." Jack hoped Merelyn was as honourable as she professed. He'd never felt her rummaging around in his mind at all, not even that night he'd given her the opportunity to try. "So how about the rest of her?"

Tosh see-sawed her hand.

"And what's wrong with those?"

"The bottoms don't fit her waist and the tops are cut too low. I ask you, why get a tattoo like that, right there, if you don't want anyone to see it?"

Because she didn't ask for it, thought Jack. He held out his phone. "Front and back, Tosh. If you'd agreed to the micro-camera we'd have finished hours ago."

Tosh didn't take it. "No. She - she's not wearing a bra!"

"So?"

"Jack!"

Jack sighed. "Does she cover up when you go in?"

"Well, no." Her face actually reddening, she added in a rush, "She didn't even go in a cubicle, just stripped off in the corridor!"

"So bare skin doesn't bother _her_." He shook the phone.

Tosh shook her head.

"The only reason I'm not in there with you is because she's narked at me for dragging her here in the first place and she'll be even more of a pain if I'm around. Do you _want_ to still be here at Christmas?"

Slowly Tosh reached out and took the mobile. "If she catches me you'll have to shell out for a new phone."

"So don't let her catch you."

He studied the pics she brought back. The first was a hands-on-hips front shot. The tattoo like a scar between small, high breasts immediately drew his eye, as it would every other eye. Tosh had exaggerated, but not by much. Her shoulders, arms and abs were amazing - strong, toned, but still feminine enough to avoid the body-builder look. Wide shoulders tapered to a waist whose existence he hadn't even guessed at, she'd kept it so well hidden by the old baggy clothes. In plain white briefs, her hips were wide, her legs muscular, heavy by comparison with the rest of her. The back shot showed a triangular, almost masculine, shape from shoulders to waist that was as well-toned as her abs, then an utterly feminine, lush flare from waist to hips and even lusher, round, white-covered behind. A behind, if he'd learned anything over the years about human females and their weird body image hang-ups, probably hated by Merelyn, along with the heavy legs. Difficult, too, for clothes, with two sizes difference between waist and hips, which was why every pair of trousers or skirt he handed Tosh the second time he rifled through the clothes racks had belts or drawstrings or gathers. Along with tops with high necklines or buttons, he chose a completely different design of jeans that took that difference between waist and hips into account. His mouth twitched suddenly, and he moved to a rack of evening gowns and checked them over, pulling out one in a blue light enough not to dull the light-brown hair, dark enough to bring out the colour of her eyes.

"Oh, yes, like I'll be able to get that on her," said Tosh.

"Pair of Jimmy Choo says you will." He pulled out his mobile and dialled. Tosh's mobile chimed. "Set the volume as high as you can. Oh, and try to hold her hair up."

Tosh grabbed a couple of jewelled combs from a display. "For Jimmy I can do better than that."

Jack braced his arm high against the wall outside the fitting room entrance, listening appreciatively via his earpiece as Tosh flattered, cajoled and persuaded, agreed and disagreed, enduring Merelyn's negative comments and rare, reluctant, monosyllabic sounds of approval with far more patience than he'd ever have given her credit for; she was really earning those shoes.

A muffled protest made him straighten. Then a, "Look, it's on now. Why don't you just let me do it up? You might surprise yourself," had him swing through the entrance just in time to see Merelyn's single, reluctant nod galvanise Tosh into action.

"Shut your eyes," said Tosh quickly to Merelyn, blocking the shorter girl's view of him. She flashed a halt-right-there look in his direction. "And no peeking til I've finished."

Merelyn gave an exasperated sigh but kept her eyes closed.

"There," said Tosh a minute or so later. "You can look now."

Merelyn stood stock-still, staring at her reflection in the long mirror. The look on her face was worth the price of a dozen pairs of shoes.

He, and Tosh, had chosen well. The bodice of the blue gown fit like a glove; cut high across her breasts, at the back it plunged dramatically almost to the top of the her buttocks and thin, jewelled straps criss-crossed her back, emphasising the tone of muscle, smooth skin and planes of her shoulder-blades; a long drape of softly gathered skirt fell from just below the narrow waist, effectively slimming her hips, flowing down to spread into a swirling puddle of fabric on the carpet. With her hair swept up, held in place by the glittering combs, sufficient strands left curving around her face to disguise the heavy jaw, and the light plush of colour emphasizing eyes, cheekbones and lips, she looked as near to beautiful as she probably ever would.

Her hand moved just a little, careful fingertips brushing the soft fabric against her thigh. Her eyes caught his in the mirror. Her mouth closed, her jaw hardened. "It isn't work clothes. And it's too long."

Jack chuckled, folding his arms across his chest.

Before Tosh could protest, Merelyn had yanked out the combs, stripped off the gown and begun pulling on her own old clothes, neither turning away from his grinning gaze nor towards it, simply carrying on as if her bare skin and the presence of a male didn't matter one way or the other, most unusual, in Jack's experience, in a woman from this era, especially one who obviously had a low opinion of her appearance.

Tosh shooed him out like a mother hen, handing him a very small heap of clothes. "These are all she says she needs. One on, one in the wash and one spare." Her eyes rolled despairingly heavenwards. She handed him another, slightly larger pile. "These suited her too. Oh, wait." Darting into the fitting room, she came out with the evening gown and combs which she also gave him.

"Like to see her in that again, Tosh?"

"Yes, actually. If events justified it." Tosh's look was very direct. "Wouldn't you?"

Jack merely grinned and made his way over to the cashier's desk. He set the pile on the counter, telling the pretty assistant who'd stuck to her post during the spider episode there was a bonus for her if she got two inches taken off the gown and had it delivered that day with the rest of the clothes to Merelyn's home address.

"Bonus?"

"Me."

She giggled, a nice giggle, and he gave her his mobile and she programmed her number in.

Merelyn fought all the way again in the shoe department, beginning with, "And what's wrong with my trainers?" Tosh made a beeline for the Jimmy Choos and left him to it. He enjoyed sparring just for the hell of it, especially when he found the perfect pair of strappy heels to match the gown and paid for them behind Merelyn's back.

"All done," he said after Tosh had finally stopped dithering over the Jimmys and he'd produced the platinum card yet again. He'd had no calls from Owen or Ianto; they must have had a quiet day. "Let's get back and release the Weevil." He turned to Merelyn. "You can choose exactly which section of the city's delightfully stinky sewers we let her go in."

"Do you mean to tell me we've been shopping, _shopping-_" Jack had never heard the word infused with such utter contempt before, "-when we could have been…? You - you-"

"U-bends."

Merelyn shut her mouth with a distinctly audible snap, turned on her heel and headed for the lifts.

_Please review if you've got a minute. It helps me keep going :))  
_


	7. Chapter 7

_I guess this is a 'montage'._

_All the usual disclaimers apply. Merelyn Evans is mine._

_Warning for mild coarse language._

**Seven**

Within a week, the make-up had streamlined into mascara and a slick of lip gloss, she wore the jeans far more than the smart trousers, and the trainers were back, though admittedly these were black. Neither of the skirts that had been among Tosh's choices ever made an appearance at the Hub.

That first week was quiet, their only active assignments a couple of Weevils subdued with an ease Jack wasn't quite ready to put down to Merelyn, but if all Weevil captures from now on were as effortless he'd have to at least consider the possibility it was due to her, and one sighting of a Tortellian Sky Scooter buzzing the locals that they told to buzz off. The slack period gave her time to settle in and learn. And learn she did, beginning with the security protocols and procedures, applying herself with an intensity he'd never seen in a new recruit before - not even Suzie - and showing an occasional, surprising humbleness, almost apology, for ignorance that he'd never seen in any recruit ever; she really felt her lack of formal education. Fulfilling the promise of her early school reports, she zoomed through Ianto's basic training in use of the Hub computer and was soon tackling Tosh's far more advanced and complex tuition. Her understanding of medicine, of course, was exceptional and, overriding Owen's protests, he made her Owen's assistant; for the sake of the team they had to get over their animosity and throwing them together was one way to force them to. To the credit of them both, they worked reasonably well together, though Owen couldn't resist the temptation to needle sometimes. She never responded, ignoring the barbs as if they'd never been launched. As it was usually her bypass of correct procedure and method and lack of terminology and theoretical knowledge that set Owen off, Jack had some sympathy with his MO; an, "It just is. I can feel it," delivered with a shrug and complete surety would have set him off, too. As it was, the only things that came close to setting Jack off were her impatience to be gone at the end of the day, when she rushed for the lift as though she couldn't bear to be in the Hub a minute longer, and her shooting, which still sucked.

He was at his desk, soothing himself by cleaning his revolver after yet another frustrating session in the gallery, when Merelyn waltzed in, grabbed his coat and held it out. "About time I earned some of these clothes. Come on, people to meet."

He glowered. "Tosh wanted-"

"Done it."

"Owen-"

"Yep." She shook the coat. "So move your arse - or is it ass?"

- - - - - - - -

As they swung out through the doors of the morgue at UHW, she said, "There, wasn't so bad being sociable after all."

"Are you kidding? I don't know which was worse - his coffee, or her tea." His mouth felt as if he'd swallowed something a Weevil would heave over.

"You're just spoilt rotten." She halted at a vending machine and put in a couple of coins.

"So are you."

Merelyn smiled a warm smile at the undeserving machine as she made her choice. "Yes, I am - now."

Jack folded his arms and propped himself against the machine. "I thought mind-fiddling was unethical." Neither the Chief Administrator nor the pathologist had made any reference to either her sudden departure from their establishment or her rise in status. Though perfectly polite, both had shown resentment and wariness upon his initial introduction. A few minutes of the old Harkness charm, though, and that had disappeared, replaced by relief at finally having an accessible face to attach to the name 'Torchwood'. Half an hour more and he knew he could count on them for future assistance and that neither would make unnecessary demands; intelligent people, they understood the difference between trivia and dire need.

Merelyn tore back the Kitkat's wrapper and offered the chocolate. "It is unethical. And I didn't." The big blue-grey eyes were very steady.

Well, rules were made to be broken. Jack snapped off a wafer finger and took a bite. And chocolate was chocolate.

Merelyn waved the Kitkat down the corridor. "Exit's that way. See ya." She began to head in the opposite direction.

Jack caught her arm. "How much longer will your loyalties be divided?" The smudges under her eyes were as dark as the night Suzie died.

"Two more weeks, Jack. I can't just stop."

"Your commitment is to Torchwood now."

"There's only a few, no new ones. Two weeks - then I'm all yours."

He tightened his grip. "No."

She didn't flinch. "One of them's Davy's mam."

Slowly, he released her arm. "Okay. But then you belong to Torchwood. No-one else."

An odd little smile tugged at her mouth, but her eyes were bleak. "No, no-one else."

- - - - - - - -

At her first field assignment, the army officer's expression altered from dismissive to deep respect. The burly man actually called her ma'am, and Jack realised she could have been wearing a bin-liner and he'd still have accorded her the same respect. She shook the officer's hand, bringing up her other hand briefly so the big paw was clasped between. The man almost bowed and Jack wondered if she was over-doing it a bit. Hiding a grin, he turned, impatient to get down to the meteor.

"Jack!"

Merelyn's tone held enough of an edge to make him swing back. He held out his hand. "Captain Jack Harkness, CO, Torchwood Three."

The officer's shake was firm, a little too firm, and Jack glanced at Merelyn with the merest hint of a raised eyebrow as he and the man did the polite. A tiny shake of her head, and he gave the army a further fifteen seconds before smoothly drawing both the conversation to a close and Merelyn and himself away.

Outside the tent, Merelyn's foot caught on a tussock and he automatically caught her elbow. She was shaking, and not just from nerves he realised. Digging into her pocket, she yanked out a Picnic, tore at the wrapper with her teeth.

"Ever thought of joining Chocoholics Anonymous?"

"Projecting - altering an emotion like that - takes energy. This helps." She took a bite, swallowed almost without chewing. "Though he was no Dementor. Just inflexibly loyal to his COs, would never back you against them. Doesn't matter. There'll be others." The next bite crumbled a little and she caught at the crumbs on her mouth with fingers whose shaking was already beginning to lessen.

"You missed some." Jack swiped at the chocolate with the side of his thumb, then stuck the thumb in his mouth. "You didn't need to try so hard. You've got Captain Jack backing you, remember." He tilted his chin into its haughtiest position then grinned.

"I'll do better next time." She wasn't grinning back.

He gripped her shoulder. "Merelyn, you did great this time." She managed a half-smile he decided to be satisfied with. "Come on, let's go see what we've got." Eagerness made him catch her hand, and they almost ran down the bank.

"What held you up?" demanded Owen from under the bright halogens, already busy taking samples. He noticed the empty wrapper in Merelyn's hand. "On tea-break already?"

Jack quietly began to take readings, keeping one eye on Merelyn, noticed Tosh was doing the same.

"Just doing my job," answered Merelyn, her tone mild as she stuffed the wrapper into a pocket.

"So do more of your job and hand me that chisel, Mouse, or I'll have you scrubbing down the autopsy room with a nailbrush."

"Like to see you make me," muttered Merelyn in an absent tone as she went right up to the meteor.

"Make that a toothbrush." Owen waved his hand. "Hello? Me MO, you MO's assistant. Chain of command?"

Jack reminded him with a cough who was the real commander here.

Merelyn ran her eyes over the meteor, then raised her hand.

"Oh, so let's over-ride all known procedures and just stick our sticky fingers all over it," said Owen.

"We may have new procedures from now on." Jack folded his arms and nodded permission.

Merelyn took a deep breath and set her hand on the meteor's craggy surface. "Hollow core. Gases. Vorax and seranium. And pheromones. Sex pheromones…"

Her voice died away and her chest began to heave. Her mouth fell open, the lips red and full. Her eyes dilated. She turned to Owen, grabbed his lapels, shoved him easily against the meteor, and yanked his head down to hers, muffling his protest with her mouth, her other hand already on his fly, virtually raping him. Though from the way Owen's hands slid to her butt and the muffled noises he was making it wasn't going to be rape for long. Jack suddenly realised Tosh was advancing on himself with glazed eyes. Orgies were fun, but this was neither the time nor the place, and Tosh would die from embarrassment after.

Neatly dodging Tosh, he grabbed at Merelyn, pulled her off with enough force to send her reeling away a few steps. "Hey, hey, do I have to turn a hose on you?"

She came to a halt, shuddering, and wrapped her arms around her ribs. "It's - it's _that_, not me!"

Gasping, Owen yanked up his fly, then braced his hands on his knees. "Course it's bloody you. Knew you'd never be able to keep your hands to yourself!"

"Alive. Desire. It desires…" She shook her head, clearing it. "The gases are just what it's made of. It's a parasite, needs a host, a female host. It wants - _needs_ to feed. On - on orgasmic energy. Male orgasmic energy."

"Really? Interesting," said Jack.

"No!" said Merelyn sharply. "It takes and takes until there's nothing. Do you understand? Absolutely nothing! It kills. It'd rip through all the males here like a tsunami through high-rises, including you. You have to keep it contained. It's safe in there for a while, still high from its last trip. But when it gets the hunger, the craving… We can't… It's too dangerous. We have to contain it, let it starve." She turned her gaze to the meteor, a sudden sparkle on her lashes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Still breathing heavily, Owen raised his head. "How can you…? Yeah, yeah. You can feel it. Just don't make me feel it, too." He wiped his mouth hard with the back of his hand. "Not ever."

"We have to keep it out of their hands," said Merelyn in a more normal tone, jerking her thumb up the bank. "Especially that female private back there, get the whole thing back to the Hub."

Owen spluttered. "How? Tie it to the roof-rack?"

"Call Ianto. Get him to bring out the Dustbuster," said Tosh, the splayed hand on her chest finally relaxing.

"A bloody vacuum cleaner's not going to hold it!" snapped Merelyn.

"Ours will," said Jack. "It's a piece of the jetsam; giant syringe capable of extracting the last particle of radioactive material from a dying core and holding it safe." He set his hand on the meteor, rubbed the surface. "Tsunami, hey? Now that'd be a heck of a way to go."

After that, Owen made even more of a show of not touching Merelyn, Tosh wasn't so obvious but still managed to avoid contact. Never did she deliberately try to touch them. Jack never saw her deliberately touch anyone at all, unless she was trying to read them for potential recruitment. She avoided physical contact on what seemed an instinctive level, her lack of touch appearing completely natural. Once someone patted her on the back, the gesture friendly, but her body went rigid, Jack saw the effort it took to keep her expression neutral, and realised her talent separated her from the rest of humanity as surely as his immortality did him.

The exception was Ianto. Ianto she touched all the time. Normal everyday touches - fingers on coffee mugs and takeaway containers, hand on shoulder as she leaned over his chair - as well as double hand clasps first thing in the morning and last at night, his twice daily 'doses' Jack assumed. And Ianto was blossoming under the treatment, developing a wicked sense of fun and incredible smile that lit his eyes, made them look bluer than ever. Merelyn was worthy of her inclusion in the team simply for that. The smile faded whenever Ianto caught his eye though, and Jack knew he was unforgiven.

"I want Ianto's recruitment records." Merelyn planted her palms on the edge of Jack's desk and leaned heavily. At his stare, she managed, "Please."

The others had left for the day. He'd thought she'd gone too. He tipped back his chair. "Why?"

"He worked at Torchwood One."

"So?"

"So he shouldn't have."

He smiled sweetly. "I have many talents; mind reading isn't one. Try speech. I'm real good at getting that. I kinda like the things it does to your mouth too. Gets my imagination going."

She didn't even bother to roll her eyes. "Gwion. He tri-"

"Your cousin?"

She nodded. "Gwi tried to join Torchwood One; he knew he could help-"

"'Knew'?"

"Yes, 'knew'. Gwi had the lot; 'path, healing, kinetics - and precog. They realised what he was at the first recruitment testing, so he showed them what he could do." Her lips compressed. "Hartman had him retconned faster than you can say crystal ball."

Jack's smile was grim. "Not the most adaptable of personalities, our Yvonne. So he went to work at Albion Hospital instead?"

"At least they wanted him, even if it was only for his MD."

"How much did he 'know'?"

"No specifics. No Cybermen or Daleks. Just Torchwood and - and death." She shivered. "Dark and death, he said. So he 'listened' around Canary Wharf as much as he could. That's how he heard about Cardiff, and the renegade type who ran it. He'd no idea Torchwood was right under his nose - you must have got that bloody SUV after he left for London. He thought you might be more… flexible-"

"That a pre-cog too?"

"-so he was coming back, was serving out his notice at Albion when…" She gave a helpless shrug.

"And I got you instead?"

She folded her arms. "Yes." The blue-grey eyes were full of an odd defiance tinged with something else… Fear, that same fear he'd seen the night she'd poisoned him. What in God's name was she so scared of? She was shaping up as well as any other recruit who'd come through his hands, better than some.

"Can _you_ pre-cog?" he asked suddenly.

"Me?" Her eyes opened wide. "I told you, empath and healer, with a mild affinity for object analysis. Believe me, Jack, I'm nothing special. Nothing special at all. My family was… great. I was… Let's just say I was not what was expected." She gave a bright smile he didn't believe. "Anyway, I want Ianto's records to see if there's anything about his talent. Their psychologists would have spotted it, even if he is untrained."

"There's nothing more than the file - the secure file - you've already looked at." She stared in surprise, but offered no apology or excuse. "The computer flagged it up when you broke the code. Tosh said you were learning fast."

She ignored both explanation and compliment, saying thoughtfully, "So he was untalented when he joined."

"I wouldn't quite put it like that."

Merelyn ignored that too. "He must be latent, then, triggered by trauma from the Battle and Lisa. And he was born when Gwi died…" she added in a voice so low Jack barely caught it. "It's rare - incredibly so in modern times. Hasn't been a latent in Wales since the nineteen hundreds. He has huge potential, could really soar. He's a true telepath, or would be if he can be taught. Latents… It's hard for them. Sometimes too hard." She paused and Jack read more than simple difficulty in her face.

"They crash and burn?"

She gave a reluctant nod. "But not always. Those who make it, they can reach the stars. But getting them there… Getting them tuned in so they broadcast what they want and only what they want, when they want, to who they want instead of chaotic stream of consciousness that can only be picked up by another talent… That's a hell of a big job."

"You up to it?"

She lifted a shoulder. "I'll have to be."

"He doesn't know, does he?"

She shook her head.

"Tell him. With a wide open mind he's a security risk. I want him able to block - fast."

"There's no other talents round here to read him," she said quickly.

He held her gaze. "Teach him."

She nodded.

He let her get to the door. "And next time you want a secure file, ask _first_ - and if I say no, don't go trying to sneak a peek behind my back."

The next time Ianto came into his office he looked rather dazed. "She - she says I'm a telepath!"

"Yes."

"A bloody telepath!"

"An untrained one. Learn from her."

"I felt her in my mind!" Ianto's eyes lit with that smile.

"You won't mind her teaching you for a change then, will you?"

"What? Oh. No."

"Didn't think you would."

The blue eyes suddenly slid away, and Ianto headed for the door.

"Ianto."

"Sir?"

"Don't think you're up to 'pathing those reports to me just yet."

Sheepishly, Ianto came back and set the sheaf of papers in his hand on the desk. "Sorry, Captain."

The pair took over the conference room for lessons after the others had left. With Ianto so uncomfortable around him, Jack left them to it - until huge gusts of male laughter echoing through the Hub proved too great a temptation. Quietly, he made his way to the open door, though, so engrossed in each other, he could probably have break-danced across and they wouldn't have noticed.

Their chairs were turned so they faced each other with no barrier between. Ianto was clutching his ribs, laughing so hard Jack was amazed he managed to stay in his seat.

"Stop it, Merelyn!" Ianto wheezed. Another paroxysm shook him, and he howled with mirth, his mouth drawn into a rictus. "God…" he managed to gasp. "Hurts…! Please…! Merelyn!"

There wasn't even a hint of a smile on her face as she stared at him. "Make me."

"I'm… tryin'!"

"Not hard enough. Block me."

"I _am_!"

Merelyn waved his attempts away. "Cobwebs. You need bricks. Concrete. Steel. Block! Or I'll…"

Jack watched in fascination as Ianto's expression altered to abject fear. The man shrank down in the chair, cowering away like a whipped mongrel. "Don't, Merelyn!" he whimpered.

"Stop me."

Ianto buried his face in his hands with a cry.

She didn't move, her face registered no emotion, yet it seemed to Jack she loomed, menacing, over the cringing figure. "Do you want me to make you piss your pants? So stop me. Block. Come on, do it!"

"I can't!"

"You can. Try harder. I can do this, too; walk right in, see everything, _know_ everything. Now, let's see, where do you keep them? Those raw, savage feelings? Everyone's got them, you know - feelings they bury with conscience and morals and civilization. But lay them bare… Shall I do that? Find out what horrors you're really capable of? Find the monster in the man? Or shall I winkle out those other awful things? Such little things, but ooh, how they hurt. Not buried quite so deep, those nasty, shameful, dirty little memories and secrets. I wonder what yours are? Those times we try so hard to forget but never quite can, when we were embarrassed and ashamed and scared? Did you piss your pants once? That why it bothers you? I could suck you dry - and I'm not even a telepath. Now where have you hidden them? Ooh, there they are, just over there, peeking out. Almost got them-"

"No!"

She dropped to her knees by his chair, one hand pressed to the side of his face, the other holding his knee. "Ianto! Let it ease. I saw nothing. I wouldn't do that to you. You know I saw nothing."

Still shuddering, he managed to nod.

"I would never do that to you, but do you understand now?"

Ianto took the hand on his knee and held it. "Merelyn, I'm twenty-six not six. I understood before."

She closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, her gaze was intense. "You are so special. You have an incredible talent. But you _must_ learn… It's my fault. A proper telepath… But I don't know how else to teach you." Frustration coloured her tone.

Ianto's other hand joined the first. "I'm sorry."

Merelyn caressed his face. "Don't want to shut me out, do you, cariad? You must. You had it there, just for a second. A bit thin and shaky, but it'll grow, get stronger. It just takes practice." She rose, sat back in her chair and huffed out a long breath, raking her fingers through her hair. "Let's take a break. Send me something instead. Never mind words today, just an image, a picture. Come on, relax. You're getting good at sending, even though it's harder than blocking." Lounging back, she laced fingers over abdomen and crossed her ankles. Ianto also visibly relaxed, folding his arms loosely over his chest. "Push the image forward, pull everything else back. Okay, my block's down."

There was a pause.

"Sticks and stones…" chanted Merelyn as her black trainer came up, kicked Ianto in the side of the leg before coming to rest on the top of his thigh. "Oh, come on, originality, please! I sent stuff like that to Mamo every time she was a bit tough - when I was six, not twenty-six. Didn't bother her, either." Her other leg came up, crossed the first at the ankle. "Try again. Go on, surprise me."

Ianto rested his hands comfortably on her ankles. Jack caught a sudden sparkle in the blue eyes. "Adults only then."

Another pause. Then Merelyn's spine straightened and she gave a long, low wolf-whistle. "Definitely adult! And not bad, not bad at all! Fact or fantasy?"

Ianto smirked. "Bit of both."

Her look questioned.

"Shower. You want me to make it move? So turn it around, and… Bit more fantasy coming _up!_"

Merelyn burst into laughter. "In your dreams!"

"And in yours."

"You have a very mucky mind, Ianto Jones."

"This a two-handed game, or can anyone join in?" asked Jack, moving into the room.

Ianto choked, his eyes dodging everywhere.

"Sorry, Jack," said Merelyn, obviously trying to hide a grin. "Your wall's tight enough already, unlike this leaky sieve." She poked Ianto's stomach with her foot.

"Oy! Mind the shirt!"

"Back to business, build that wall."

"Can't we stop? I'm starving."

"So am I." Merelyn rubbed her stomach. "Didn't realise."

"No, you never do. Food _before_ patients tonight, okay?" Ianto's look was severe.

"Yessir!" Merelyn gave a mock salute. She swung her feet to the floor and stood. "So what do you fancy?"

Ianto stood too, his cheeks staining.

"For dinner?" continued Merelyn. "You hungry, Jack? Want to come?"

Ianto choked again.

"No, I'm okay," said Jack. "Have a good time."

They made their way across the Hub, feet in time on the steps, bodies close and comfortable. As they reached the lift, Merelyn suddenly darted sideways for the stairs. "Last one to the top has to cook!"

"Like that's supposed to make me want to beat you?" called Ianto. Then he raced off too. Not for the first time, Jack found himself wondering how far their relationship went, and wishing… But then what did he expect? He'd shot the guy's girlfriend, threatened to shoot him and he wasn't actually sure he was anything other than het anyway. Then again, that day with the pterodactyl…

Ianto's laughter echoed back down the stairs. Jack sighed in mild frustration at missed opportunities while he dialled for pizza, the guy really was hot. And as for Merelyn…

As for Merelyn, she didn't squirm out of the way anymore if he touched her, if anything she leaned into it - as long as it was normal, everyday touch; any hint of a caress and she backed right off. She refused to flirt, either simply looking at him or ignoring him altogether. In the end he gave up, deriving quieter pleasure in her acceptance of his ordinary touch and the easy silences that fell between them sometimes. And in making her jump, by sneaking up when she least expected. He felt she got her own back, but couldn't quite work out how. She'd say something and he felt her amusement, as though inside she was laughing. If Ianto was around, sometimes he'd catch him sniggering too, sniggers he tried to hide at Jack's glare.

After her 'two more weeks' were up, she began putting in huge hours at the Hub and the dark circles around her eyes still didn't fade. Sometimes he thought she'd left with Ianto, but then she'd be back, tapping away at her keyboard, cheeks fresh, and he realised she'd merely been up on the roof. The night he actually found her sprawled asleep over her workstation he decided enough was enough.

He shook her shoulder and she raised her head, blinking with red-rimmed eyes.

"Go home."

She scrubbed her face with fumbling fingers, mumbling, "But you're still here. When're you goin' home?"

"I am home. I live here."

"But…" She blinked some more. "Where d'you sleep?"

"I don't. Great for the graveyard shift, me." He leaned closer. "Stop trying to keep up."

"I'm n-"

"Go home." He pulled the brown leather jacket he'd bought that day in the mall from the back of her chair and held it out.

"But there's so much…" Her eyes swung to the computer.

"You'll learn faster after some decent sleep." He shook the jacket. "Go home, or I'll block your computer access so not even Tosh could get you in." She actually let him help her into the jacket without further protest. He caught hold of the lapels. "I don't want to catch even the faintest whiff of lavender closer than the Plass for two days. Now, git."

She came back after one day with a little vase filled with fresh lavender that she set on his desk, a peace in her eyes that Jack envied, and he felt more glad to have her back than he should.

After that, she left the Hub along with the others - until he lost Estelle. Then she sat in his office, listening as he spilled his guts about his love, watching with no condemnation as he drank himself into as near oblivion as immortal Old Jack would let him while the old ache in his chest blossomed and throbbed and pounded, and threatened to send him mad.

At last he set the crystal glass down on the open photo album, moved it a little so the amber painkiller swirling in its bottom blotted out Estelle's beautiful face.

"Did you dance, Jack?"

"What?" He squinted over the desk. Big blue-grey eyes swam before him.

"At the Astoria. Did you dance?"

"All night." If only the eyes were brown, dark and warm like rare wartime coffee.

"Then see her, feel her, floating in your arms. Hold on to her. Keep your vow. Keep her in your heart, and she lives as long as you."

In his befuddled state her words didn't make sense, but the ache in his chest eased a little. Or maybe that was merely the brandy.

She stayed all night that night, working quietly at her station while he remained slumped in his chair, not daring to disappear down in his Den for fear of nightmares. He should have resented her presence, but didn't.

In the morning she brought him coffee in careful hands. "Long black made on a triple shot. Ianto showed me. He sends good pictures now - as long as he's no further than a couple of metres away. Distance will come with practice."

He took the mug with grateful fingers and managed to pull himself together enough to ask, "And his block?"

"Tissue paper." She lifted a shoulder. "He likes me in his mind. I comfort him."

Jack wished she could reach his mind too.

Later, though, when the child was taken, as they stood surrounded by the remnants of the Old Forest and the creatures known by the soft, utterly inadequate word of 'fairies', she did her best to give comfort.

"The child won't be harmed?" he yelled, clutching the little girl close.

_She lives forever__!_

He didn't believe. How could he, when he'd seen what they'd done? _Estelle… _Heard what they could do?

"Jack, let me." Merelyn knelt and took the child's hands and for one terrifying second the fairies turned on her, but one clawed at her shirt, snarled at the dragon tattoo and they all flitted away. "I won't hurt her, Old Ones." Wings whirred angrily from the trees, but the fairies did nothing more. "Jasmine, look at me." She stroked Jasmine's cheek. "Your Mam will miss you terribly."

"No she won't." Jasmine set one finger in the middle of Merelyn's forehead and smiled.

Merelyn smiled back. "Not so much anyway." She rose. "There's no doubt in her mind. You can't hold onto this one. She has her path to follow."

He caught Jasmine to him again. "She won't be harmed?" he repeated, not sure who he was asking.

_We told you. __She lives forever._

He let the child go. "Take her then."

The Chosen One skipped away.

"You should not be so accepting."

Merelyn's eyes were full of surprise at the condemnation and anger in his tone. "She has her path to follow." She frowned up at him, then set her hand on his sleeve. "It's alright to let her go."

A shrieking figure ran passed, halted, then whirled on him.

He held the mother, taking her blows, wishing they were harder. "I am so sorry!"

"Give her to me." Merelyn eased the frantic woman off. "Lynn. Listen to me. I can help you. Let me help you." The frenzied sobs subsided a little. Rocking her gently, Merelyn looked at him over the shaking woman's head. "It had to be done, Jack. They'd have wreaked the havoc til they got what they wanted. She'd have been first, her and the baby boy she carries. She'll have sweet memories of Jasmine, she'll know her girl's happy, I'll make sure. And I'll make sure she lets her grief ease so she finds her next man. It's alright, Jack."

But it wasn't alright, as Owen and Tosh's tight, closed-in faces told him. It was all wrong.

But it had to be done.

_So what do you reckon the picture was that Ianto 'sent' Merelyn?? Kitkat for the first correct answer :D_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Warning!**__ Rated M. High level of violence, high level of coarse language._

**Eight**

"I agree with Owen; there's no aliens here," stated Merelyn, raking her hair out of her eyes as her gaze raked the windswept country. In a faded green hoodie, old jeans and worn-in brown hiking boots, she fit well in the cloud-covered landscape. "But there is something… I grew up in country like this-"

"That explains a lot," muttered Owen, huddling further down into the collar of his jacket.

"-and this… This doesn't feel right."

"Of course it's not right! I mean, look at it. It's empty. No concrete, no traffic, no exhaust fumes, no bars with pretty neon signs. Don't suppose 'bar' is even in the dictionary out here, let alone 'neon'!"

"What doesn't feel right?" asked Jack from where he leant over the map spread out on the bonnet of the SUV.

"I can't put my finger on it. It just doesn't…" Merelyn gave a helpless shrug. "…_smell_ right."

"We had that conversation in the SUV," said Owen.

"Here you go," said Ianto as he joined them, his hands filled with burgers. "Careful, they're hot. You sure you don't want any, Tosh?"

"Really sure. A friend of mine caught hepatitis off a burger from one of these places."

They all looked at the meat-patties housed in their flat bread buns. Jack set his on the bonnet with disgust.

"Not in these," said Merelyn. "These do smell right. Homemade. Just beef and egg and breadcrumbs. Oh, and a few herbs - less artificial additive shit in fact than you get from a concrete, neon-lit burger-joint in town." She took a huge bite.

Jack picked up his burger again and used it to indicate the map. "We'll start with the most recent victim…"

- - - - - - - -

"_Will_ you let me go first this time?!"

Somehow, even though Jack could tell she was scared silly, Merelyn was managing to glare, and not with bravado. She was right. He had to stop protecting her, give her a chance to take the greater risk of being first through the door, or she'd always be a drag on the team. In fairness, she'd hardly blenched at the carcasses they found, her feelings for them as people obvious by the compassion in her face. She reacted so little at the horror in the pub he'd asked if she'd seen anything as bad before. "Not flesh and bone. But here…" She'd tapped her head. "Ever seen that painting 'The Scream'? I reckon Edvard Munch was an empath." The dawning of what it meant to be her must have shown on his face because she'd added, "Some can't hack it and they…" She'd lifted a shoulder. "But not me, Jack. Tough cookie, that's me." In the midst of the stench and flies and Owen's cursing she'd actually smiled. "Sometimes I feel the joy too."

Yeah, she was tough. Jack nodded an okay and took up the position by the side of the old door, revolver at the ready. If only that damn .22 pistol she was packing looked less like a toy…

Merelyn yanked at the door handle.

"Locked?"

She nodded, then set her hand flat on the door. "There's something…"

"What? _What_?"

"Terror." Her face cleared. "It's just a boy, Jack. Near out of his mind with fear. It's alright!" she yelled. "We won't hurt you!" She yanked harder.

"Merelyn, no!"

The door gave and, projecting reassurance, Merelyn darted inside. "It's alright!"

The eyes behind the shotgun were huge. The shotgun…

"Oh shi-"

A blast sounded and she reeled back and fell down as the world fell apart.

"Merelyn!" Jack was looming over her so why did his voice sound so far away? "Merelyn!" He sounded so scared too. Now that wasn't right. Heroes weren't supposed to sound scared. That was for boys with shotguns…

"Merelyn!" That wasn't Jack, that was Owen. He looked petrified too. Where had Jack gone? What was all the panic about? And who the hell was making all those gurgling, gasping noises?

Jack was back and lifting her up, carrying her. Her lucky day.

"The kid hit her with a shotgun!"

Oh. That explained the pain exploding in her side and all the little holes. She better do something about them. Jack rushing and crashing through doorways wasn't helping though. Oh, he'd be so pissed with her!

She grabbed at him as he laid her on a table. "Jack, I-"

"Don't!" Jack shook a finger under her nose. "_Don't_ apologise!" He realised how rough his voice was and pressed his hand to her face so she understood he wasn't mad _at_ her but _for_ her. He glanced over at Owen. "I'll check upstairs."

Owen shoved cushions under her head. "I'm going to have a look at your wound now, okay?"

Concentrating, Merelyn merely nodded.

"The lengths you go to _try_ to get my hands on you!" Though Owen let go the surgical glove he'd pulled on with a theatrical snap, a smile tugged at his mouth, a nice smile with no edge behind it. He peeled back her shirt from her side. "It could have been much worse." He laid a dressing over the wound. "Hold this. Apply pressure." She already was, but did as she was told anyway, knowing he was giving her something to do so she wouldn't feel helpless. He was chatting too, to distract her from his hands. "The pellets are lodged near the surface, you've been bloody lucky. Another inch to the left and any one of your vital organs might have been…"

"Mincemeat."

"Yeah, and I'd be dealing with the type of patient I generally prefer."

"A cadaver."

"Ideal position, MO with Torchwood." He held up the syringe. "D'you want to qui-"

"I don't need that."

"What's up, still don't trust me?" Injecting the local into her side, he said, "Despite your past experience, I do know what I'm doing."

So long ago, and he hadn't forgotten. Well, neither had she. But she'd agree with Jack now; though he might bury it deep, Owen Harper had a heart.

He picked up the tweezers and settled himself closer. "There's going to be a certain amount of residue-"

"No there isn't. And you can be as quick and rough as you like."

"Me? Rough? Smooth as silk, love. Smooth as silk." He set to work with the tweezers. "So you can do your thing to yourself, eh? Didn't think you were bleeding or panicking much. You could at least pretend to be normal." A pellet clinked into the dish. "So what exactly is it you do?"

It was the first time he'd shown any curiosity about her talent so she forgave him the 'normal'. "Right now? Micro surgery - without the waldoes."

"Waldoes?"

"Not you as well! You should have got that one, Owen, especially as they have medical applications. Check 'em up when we get back." If they got back… "I'm stopping pain receptors from sending messages and I've cauterized blood vessels. Removing foreign objects I'm crap at - because they _are_ foreign objects and not living tissue - so I'm glad you're around."

Though his eyes remained intent on his work, his mouth tilted. "Not obsolete yet, then? That's a comfort."

"Don't suppose you've got any chocolate in that pack of yours?" She decided not to mention she'd lost her supply with the SUV. "Be more use than that local."

"So that's what it's for - emergency rations. Sorry. But I'll make sure I carry some from now on."

Jack came tearing down the stairs with the shotgun. "What's taking Tosh and Ianto so long?"

"Give them a chance. The SUV might be locked up or under guard." Another pellet clinked.

"Or they could be dead!" That was the boy in the kitchen, his voice hoarse with panic. "Well, everyone else is!"

"Sit down!" commanded Jack. He bent down and held the boy's gaze. "Tell us what happened here!"

"It's not human!" The boy's eyes were huge, his gestures emphatic. "Look, my mum-"

"Jack, bring him over here. I might be able to see what he fears."

The boy shrank into the chair.

"She won't bite you." Jack gripped the kid's shoulder. "I won't let her."

The wound bit, though, as she withdrew her talent to redirect it at the boy. She took his hand as he stood at the other side of the table, Jack by his side, for reassurance or to prevent him escaping she wasn't sure. "Kieran." The hand trembled. "That's your name, right? Listen, I can feel things sometimes. It won't hurt, I promise, but I need to put my hand on your forehead, okay? I need to feel what you saw, find out what they are. If we know that, we can deal with them." Kieran's eyes darted to Jack.

"It's what we do."

Nervously licking his lips, the boy nodded his assent and leant down.

_Roots tripped. Shadows chased. Laughter mocked. Sweat stank. Lungs burned. Legs stumbled. Shadows closer. Hiding, gasping. Howl of triumph. Running, running. __Shadows chasing. Lungs burning, legs stumbling…_

Merelyn let go with a sigh. "Chaos, Jack. Formless monsters." Disappointment filled three pairs of eyes. "I'm sor-"

"I said no apologies!"

Kieran wasn't as forgiving as Jack. "So what you gonna do now?" His voice caught. "They're expecting me back for the weekend!"

"Look, we'll get you home to your mum, okay."

"How? You can't fight them, they're too strong! All we can do is barricade the door!"

"No. We'll make base at the pub."

Owen looked up from the dressing he was sticking to her side. "What about Tosh and Ianto? Should we go after them?"

"Not til we know what we're dealing with."

"What if it's too late?" Owen's eyes locked with Jack's over the table.

"They're not children-"

"And they're not dead," said Merelyn raising herself to her elbows. "At least, Ianto…" Her gaze slid away and she sat up properly.

Jack caught her arm - and not for support. "You can reach him?"

"It's him who reaches me - only he's too far away." Swinging her feet over the side of the table, she said, "I just know he's not dead. Death feels… different." She used Jack's arm to help slide herself off, felt him take her weight as he realised what she was doing.

"Hang on, girl!" warned Owen.

"Hey, take it easy!" Stooping, Jack swung her arm around his neck, set his arm about her waist.

She eased herself out of his grip. "I'm alright, Jack. Really." She took a few steps to prove she could. "Come on, let's get back to that snug little inn a few doors down. I could do with that drink now…"

- - - - - - - -

"Only in the bloody countryside. You sick fuckers!"

The police officer and his uncle shoved them all through tattered plastic.

Merelyn stumbled, her side afire. Another shove sent her sprawling, almost on top of a body. Those huge eyes stared at her again, but the boy had no gun this time. At least he was alive. He was silently crying out to her for help, but she scrambled away. She needed to concentrate now and the burning in her side was distraction enough without having him screaming in her mind as well. Thank God Owen had given her the local after all. She looked over to where he and Tosh knelt, hands behind their backs, the police officer standing over them, a guard over prisoners awaiting execution. Owen hadn't given her so much as a pulled face in blame as they'd been forced into this stinking human abattoir. What a fucking cock-up she'd made of everything! So busy using her talent to block pain simply so she could walk without Owen's help, she'd missed completely the policeman's intentions, his involvement in this butchery. What use was this piddling little talent she'd been given if it didn't give them any advantage? And what fucking use was she if she hadn't got the brains to use the little she had to try to stop Tosh from being half-choked to death by that bastard?

Evan, that was his name. He was striding around the table now, a demented lord of the manor. Outside, he'd patted her cheek as he'd taken her .22 off his nephew, saying, "Like you'd be able to hit me with this little peashooter! Look at you. You'd not hit a barn." Finally, she'd had the sense to turn her talent outward instead of in, and probed as delicately into his mind as she could with her side suddenly throbbing and burning. Not delicately enough as his eyes filled with sudden suspicion and he pulled a bloodied leather thong from his pocket, yanked her hands together and bound her wrists far too tight. She'd mentally reeled at his mind, almost vomited, and all she'd got was his name, and what use was that? She'd been right about only one thing. When the others were rabbiting on about aliens, she'd stuck to her guns that there were no aliens here. And there weren't, only humans. She looked back through the tattered plastic sheeting into the well-lit section of the hall beyond. The villagers were quietly chatting, drinking tea. God, they could hardly be called humans. They were more monstrous than Weevils.

"Where's Ianto? What have you done to him?" demanded Tosh.

Evan dragged a figure up from behind the table. He yanked the bag off its head and displayed his prize.

Gag cutting at his mouth, Ianto was battered, bloody and barely conscious. "Wake up, man." Evan back-handed him across the face and Ianto's eyes struggled open.

"Take the gag off, love." A woman stood framed by the plastic. She grinned at Evan. "Let's see if he's a squealer." Merelyn dodged out of the way as much as her knees would let her as she passed. The woman steadied Ianto by the hair as Evan quickly untied the gag, a wedding ring glinting on her hand. A medallion on a leather thong glinted around her neck as she bent to sooth Ianto's cheek. "Funny really, cos pork's not our favourite." She relinquished Ianto back to her husband.

"Time to be bled." Evan picked up a cleaver from the table. "Like veal. That's what we like best. It takes a long time, but it definitely makes the meat taste better." He put the cleaver across Ianto's throat.

The sound of choked, strangled wailing filled the room.

So, they were all here. Torchwood was about to end, not at the hands of aliens but at the hands of twisted humans, beginning with the best of them. They were all about to…

Jack. Somewhere, out in the gathering dark, Jack was still free.

Merelyn took a deep breath.

"That's mine. I want it back. Give it to me."

_Just a shortie to whet your appetite :) Sorry, couldn't resist..._


	9. Chapter 9

_**Warnin**__**g!**__ Warning! Danger, Will Robinso… Whoops, sorry. Wrong show! __:) __ Seriously folks, rated M. Very high level of violence, very high level of language, adult themes, sex, character death. In short, full of angsty goodness. Oh rats, 'nother quote. Buffy, I think. _

_Allestian, thanks for the Water Baby!_

**Chapter Nine**

"What?" Evan released the pressure of the cleaver across Ianto's throat just a touch.

Merelyn tipped her chin at the woman by his side. "That necklace. It's mine. Give it to me." Gathering everything she had, she managed to reach Evan, even without touch, and searched. This time, so intent on holding all suspended in his power, he didn't notice. She probed deeper, repressing a shudder as she felt the shadows and blood, the cruelty and filth, the perverseness. Nothing was hidden, kept secret here. Here all dark thoughts were displayed like trophies, yet used every day. She allowed them to touch her own dark thoughts, bring them to the surface, pushing aside conscience, ethics, morals that held them back.

Evan straightened, looked from her to his wife. He lifted the medallion from the woman's chest with the tip of the cleaver. "What, this? You want me to give you this?"

"Yes."

"Not in the habit of giving. Tell you what…" He yanked the medallion from his wife's neck. She gave a gasp, then fell silent at his look. His gaze cut back to Merelyn. "You can have it if you pay me." He stepped away from Ianto, who sagged and swayed, came over to Merelyn. Sure of his dominion, he halted far too close and dragged her to her feet, dangling the medallion by its broken thong by the side of her face. The bronze circle of dragon and sword gleamed dully as it spun, the design as sharp as if it was newly minted. "It's a pretty piece. What's it worth?"

Merelyn projected lust. "What do you want?" Her voice came out low and husky.

He leered down. "I'll have a kiss." His breath was sour.

"Untie me and I'll be able to give you more than that."

"You think I'm daft? Don't need you to give, anyway. I'm happier taking." Still holding the medallion, his hand dropped, grabbed at the top of her shirt between her unzipped hoodie and ripped the cotton down as easily as if it was tissue paper. He stared at the tattoo between her breasts. "Well, well." He reached out a dirty fingertip and touched the design, barely grazing her skin. "Got one of your own already. So I can take to my heart's content." His hand moved and he twisted a nipple viciously.

Merelyn gasped at the sharp stab of pain, swirled it to pleasure in her mind and arched into the hurt-dealing hand.

Evan shook his head like a bewildered bull. She was losing him. The shotgun wound had weakened her more than she'd realised, she needed more strength to project. And she knew just where to get it.

Ianto jerked and gasped as she ripped into his mind without warning, going way beyond anything they'd ever touched on. She slashed deeper, ruthlessly pillaging, tearing through him for what she needed, shredding all her delicate, painstaking layers of healing in the process, slicing at the old wounds, leaving them to bleed unchecked. His energy poured into her, his power sang in her veins. She pulled back, taking his strength with her. Somewhere, far away, his soul was crying.

Grabbing at the stiff waxed jacket, she dragged Evan down and fastened her mouth on his, thrust her tongue deep into his stinking, beautiful, foul mouth as she thrust herself deep into his stinking, beautiful, foul mind. Fuck, she wanted him, wanted every bit of his body and mind.

From a long way off, something gasped, "No!"

It took her a second or two to realise what it was. "Shut up," she said to Ianto without looking at him, her tied hands busy with the belt at Evan's waist that held his jacket closed. She tossed the belt away in triumph and ran her hands up the man's shirt. He was hot, the cotton damp under her fingers.

"He your boyfriend?"

"Him?" She looked down at the whey-faced worm, squirming on the floor. "He wouldn't know where to put it."

"Merelyn!" The worm spoke the word somewhere between a whisper and a sob.

"Shut _up!_"

"Merelyn?" said Evan slowly. "I've heard that name before. A long time ago. Must be nigh on twenty years. Yes, two harvests ago. This was hers." He looked at the medallion in his hand before returning his gaze to her face. "Now there was a pretty piece. Not so pretty by the time I'd finished with her. I took her too. On that table. I felt kind that day, let her husband watch. Gave him a real treat. She was so tender by the time I'd done, she didn't need bleeding, so I jointed her there and then. He cried at that, was still snivelling when I bled him. He stopped. Eventually."

His thoughts were graphic in his mind. They excited him. He was going to have her on the table where he jointed her Mam. Merelyn shivered with excitement too. "Did they taste good, my Mam and Da? When you ate them?" She bit her lip until she felt the blood welling. "As good as this?" She rubbed her mouth over his, then licked at the dried blood on his mouth from his own wound, sucked at it, felt a rush of heat as the warm, metallic taste trickled into her own mouth. She leaned into him, let him feel her weight, let her breasts rub at the damp cotton of his shirt. Her cuffed hands cupped the bulge that strained behind the fly of his trousers, squeezed a little. "Did she treat you as good as this? My Mam?" He pushed himself into her hands, and she massaged him roughly through the coarse cloth before tugging his belt undone, grinning up at him. "I bet she didn't." She pulled down his fly notch by notch, spread the flaps wide. "I bet I'll feel better, tighter, hotter than my mother. I bet I blow your fucking mind."

She held his gaze, let sex and pain and death ooze from her mind, felt it mix with his. This man, this animal before her would fuck her blind while he cut her, fuck her hard and fast with agony and pain behind every thrust and heave, have her screaming in ecstasy and torment; he'd grunt and snarl and throw himself on her, and then, as he hit his orgasmic high, as she hit hers, he'd slit her throat and she'd blaze higher in death than she ever had in life.

She reached inside his jocks, raked her nails down his rock-hard cock. He shuddered with pleasure. "I'll take everything you've got, Evan Sherman," she said. "Starting with these." Her hands found his sweaty, hairy balls and grabbed them, crushed and twisted them with fingers as tight as a vice.

A strangled sob issued from Evan's throat. He dropped the cleaver and his hands came down to protect himself. In one fluid move, Merelyn yanked her hands out, reached, seized the cleaver, and swung with all her strength.

The blade arced, found its target, bit into the man's neck, tore into flesh, tendon and muscle, severed windpipe and artery.

Bright blood spurted, pulsed, spattered.

With eyes filled with disbelief that dulled into death, he hit the bloody, filthy flagged floor.

The room was silent save for loud, harsh pants and heaving breaths.

A rumble came.

A cup on the tea-table began to rattle.

Merelyn remained holding the cleaver, staring down at the body as the tractor crashed through, didn't move even when Jack yelled, "Get down!" and shots and shouts and dust and chaos erupted around her, was still staring when the dust settled and all became quiet once more.

She let the cleaver slip from her fingers. Reaching down, she tugged the medallion free from the lifeless hand. "I _said_, that's mine."

"Three cheers for Buffy and the cavalry!" Owen's voice shook. His gaze fixed on the dead body. "That'll teach you to play with your food!"

Jack strode over, didn't waste words on the dead. He picked up the cleaver, gave it a quick wipe on the body's coat and used its tip to make short work of the thong around Merelyn's wrists. "Great work. But next time I say get down, you get." Merelyn looked at him, shivering, and he slipped off his coat and wrapped it around her. "Good with blades, huh? Forget firearms, it's fencing for you from now on."

She flashed him enough of a wobbly smile to reassure him she was going to be okay, so he turned to the rest of his team. With a stiff, robotic gait, Merelyn walked away, outside.

Tosh held out shaking hands and he sliced through the rope. "Jack. Merelyn… H-her parents." Her voice shook as much as her hands. "They didn't die in a crash. They were… here. They were-" She swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

He found her on her knees, clutching her side, vomiting in the yard. He held her hair out of the way for her, then pulled her away from the mess when she'd done. She resisted, shuddering, saying, "I'm… dirty," in a voice full of loathing. Jack pulled more insistently until she relaxed enough to half-lie back against him.

Merelyn sagged, grateful for once she could feel nothing from him except the gentleness of the arms around her, the strength of the body behind her back, and the life that crackled through him. "That was the most vile, foul…" She shuddered again. "When we get back, I'm not getting out the shower for a fortnight."

"Owen'll rename you the Water Baby. What a picture - you splashing about with fins and a teeny weeny seashell bikini!"

"Go drown your imagination before I do. Owen will never see me like that. If I'm lucky, it'll be the Slayer from now on, you'll see." She tried to wipe blood from her hand on the ground. "Not all the perfumes of Arabia…"

Heedless of the blood and dirt, Jack took her hand, held it to his face. "Arabia's just round the corner. I'll go pick up all you need." He kissed her palm.

"S'okay, bleach'll do - as a mouthwash." She felt him smile against her fingers. "Mamo warned me about people like him. I hope to God he was my first and last. Oh shi…" She dry retched, then fell back against him again, weary to her bones. "They can't be helped - have something missing. And they infect others. The kindest thing you can do is put them down. At least, I hope - I think - that's why I… You didn't kill the others, did you?"

"I'm better than that. I just winged them." He tightened his hold on her. "Tosh said… Your parents…" Sorry was so inadequate.

She held up the medallion. The light caught at the edges of the dragon and sword as it twisted gently on its thong. "It was their tenth anniversary," she said, eyes intent on the gleaming circle. "They'd actually taken the weekend off, were heading for a little place further in the Brecons. Mamo heard it all; the bond between her and my Mam was very strong." Merelyn stopped the medallion from swinging, caught it in her hand, rubbed her thumb over its face. She smiled. "Furthest my Mam ever broadcast." Jack heard the pride in her voice. "They fought hard and well, my Mam and Da. Da even managed to get a gun off one. Only there were too many even for Mam. She saw exactly what they were going to do. She took the gun off Da, somehow found the strength to reach me, tell me she'd miss seeing me grow. Then she shot my Da before she shot herself." Her hand, fingers tight now around the medallion, came to her heart in the gesture he'd seen her use before. "That Evan was a liar. As for what he ate, that was just meat, dead meat. I hope it gave him the shits."

Jack gave a weak laugh and bent his head to bury his face in her hair.

Suddenly, she was out of his arms and scrambling to her feet. "Ianto! I can't hear him!" Jack's coat slipped from her shoulders as she raced for the door.

Jack jumped up and chased after.

Tosh and Owen were standing, Tosh unlocking Owen's cuffs. The villagers still lay scattered about, clutching their wounds like moaning rag-dolls. Merelyn had halted in front of Ianto who was sunk onto a chair, his head in his freed hands.

"You're blocking me. Tight as a fortress." Merelyn's eyes shone. "That's brilliant!"

Slowly, Ianto raised his head. Under the blood and dirt, his face was as white as paper. "You violated me!" he whispered.

"Oh cariad, I needed to. You're so strong. I couldn't do it on my own." She reached out a hand.

"Don't touch me! Don't you ever touch me again! You made me…" He shuddered. "You would have let him…" His gaze ran over her. Her shirt-front was in tatters, blood was smeared around her mouth. "You'd have enjoyed it!"

"Yes." There was no apology in her tone this time. "Lisa would have done the same if she could."

"My Lisa would never…" He shuddered again.

"She'd have done anything for you." Merelyn's gaze was steady, though her eyes were full. "Even that."

"No." His mouth worked. "Never," he whispered. He struggled to his feet, looked around at all of them. "I can't stand… Get out of my way." Shaking off Jack's hand, he stumbled out.

"Prefer the Mouse to the Slayer?" called Owen. "You're even more of a pillock than I thought. Or is it only fem-bots that do it for you?"

"Owen!" exclaimed Tosh.

Owen reeled as Merelyn's fist caught him perfectly on the jaw. "Jesus! You little…" He felt at the blood running from his mouth.

Merelyn shook the ache from her hand. "One day, Owen, you're going to fall for someone as hard as Ianto did for Lisa. I just hope whoever it is falls as hard for you."

"You deserved that, Owen," said Tosh, catching at Merelyn's arm, holding her back as she started after Ianto. "Jack, no," she added quickly as he too made a move. "Give him a minute. He did great. Gave me a chance to run." She tightened her grip on Merelyn's arm. "He'll come back. How could he not?" She took hold of Merelyn's still-clenched fist, carefully eased open the fingers and laid them against her cheek, imagined removing bricks from a wall, trying to open her mind, project gratitude and apology.

Merelyn shook her head, put back the bricks one by one. "Your private thoughts are your own. I don't peek."

A flaming white-hot shriek of anger, revulsion and despair called her a liar, had her crying out, doubled up in pain. _You violated me!_ thundered through her skull.

Tosh caught her, wrapped her arms around her.

Merelyn hung on tight. "I had to!" she whispered.

"Going to get some girl on girl action now, are we?" Owen leered. "Can I watch?"

"Shut up, Owen," they all said together.

"And leave Ianto alone," added Merelyn, withdrawing from the comfort of Tosh's arms. "He's a braver man than you. Braver than any of us." Owen made a rude noise. Merelyn knew he understood why, knew too that his own shock and fear was making him behave like a complete dick, but right then she really didn't care. "My Mamo - my gran - left me a little recipe book full of remedies and afflictions. It's old, very old. There's one in there for buboes - boils that that swell and fester, burst with yellow pus. Fancy a few on your dick, do you, Owen? On your dick and up your arse?"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me."

"Don't," said Jack, rubbing his cheek. "She'll do it."

_I am very interested - on tenterhooks actually - in your reactions to this rather __violent chapter. Please review!_


	10. Chapter 10

_To help get rid of lingering shudders from Chapter Nine - f__luff, and a little implied smut._

_Rated M. Occasional coarse language, nudity._

**Ten**

The door of the shooting gallery closed behind Jack with a thunk.

Merelyn swung around, had him covered before he had a chance to move. He raised his hands. "It's one-thirty in the morning. You shouldn't be here."

She lowered the gun, the regular pistol the team used, he noted, not her .22, and pulled a careless face.

"I mean, you really shouldn't be here. You're not supposed to be able to bypass security," he said, coming forward to inspect the array of weapons and ammo laid out on the table by her side. He'd seen her slip in on the CCTV. Dressed in the old grey hoodie and faded track pants, she looked so like the girl who'd dropped into his arms he'd had to smile. The hoodie lay in a crumpled heap on the table and the muscles in her shoulders and torso gleamed where not covered by her black sports crop or the fresh gauze dressing over the wound in her side. Already on a silver chain around her neck, the dragon medallion was half-hidden, tucked into the top of the crop.

She lifted one well-toned shoulder. "Picked the codes out of Ianto's mind."

Jack looked up sharply from the pulse rifle he was checking. "That's a worry."

"Before he learned how to block. Not the strongest talent in the world could take it from him now." Her voice became bitter. "I taught him well." She aimed at one of the new human-shaped targets Jack had added since her comments the first time he'd brought her down here, pulled the trigger and clipped the edge of the woman's right shoulder. Her mouth compressed into a thin line. She aimed again.

Jack made an impatient sound. "You're not doing anything _I_ taught _you_. Wait." He jammed on muffs and protective glasses that matched hers. "Breathe and squeeze, remember - don't pull." Standing behind her, he corrected her stance, settling his hand over hers on the gun. "Now. Sque-eze gently."

A hole appeared in the right shoulder of the target. A satisfied grin spread across Merelyn's face.

Jack stepped away and crossed his arms. "Better. Now on your own."

A second hole appeared almost directly on top of the first. "Good. Correct your aim just a little."

The first hole became slightly wider as the third bullet ripped into it. "No. Correct your aim." Jack repositioned himself behind her, moved the weapon just a fraction, then stepped away. A fourth bullet ripped into the target, in the right hand.

Merelyn's triumphant look had Jack narrowing his eyes. "You're trying for disarm and disable shots."

"They're easier."

"They are not!"

"They are for me."

After her performance earlier at the village, he didn't bother with the kill lecture. Instead he decided to test her reflexes and decision-making and moved to the new console installed as part of the upgrade he'd undertaken on the gallery. He doused the lights in the target area, then set the sequence for random spotlights and target movement. "Okay. Let's have us a little battle. Remember, whatever - whoever's - out there'll kill you if they can."

Merelyn assumed the correct cover stance, her weapon raised, cocked and ready.

Jack shook his head. "From rest. Holster it."

She tucked the semi into the back of her trackpants with a slight wince as her side caught, then lounged against the table, folding her arms. Lit by sudden light, a Weevil loomed out of the dark. The gun was back in her hand so fast her move was almost a blur - then she lost all the advantage her speed had given by going for the Weevil's shoulder. The alien rolled forward through two more disable shots before she finally got the message and let off a fourth that tore through the head and the Weevil rumbled to a halt just short of the rail's end.

"Too slow!" was Jack's only comment.

On the other side of the room, another Weevil rumbled forward. This time she let off only one disable shot before accepting the inevitable and going for the head.

The third Weevil hardly had a chance to begin its journey forward before it halted, a bullet lodged in its head.

An unarmed human female appeared, and was stopped with a shoulder wound.

The main lights came on.

Merelyn swung around to Jack. "You said they'd all kill me!"

Jack grinned. "I did." He doused the lights again, and she swung back to the target area.

A Cyberman appeared in a halo of light. Merelyn dropped the pistol on the table, grabbed the pulse rifle, wincing as her knuckles caught in the trigger-guard, and took the metal monster out before it rolled further than a couple of metres.

Another human female, this one armed with an axe. "It's Toshiko!" called Jack.

The rifle dropped, the semi raised, and Tosh was disarmed by a shot in the hand and disabled with a thigh wound. She still rumbled forward - until a third bullet hit her brain.

"Owen!"

Again the figure was taken out with hand, thigh and finally brain.

"Evan Sherman!"

The .22 was snatched up. "I'll give you peashooter!" A tiny hole appeared dead centre of Evan's forehead.

"Ianto!"

The .22 wavered.

"Ianto!"

The figure halted with a hole in the forehead.

"Me!"

He was taken out with shots to hand, thigh and head.

He turned on the main lights and came forward to the table. "Me you don't kill, I just come back. Me you incapacitate, both shoulders and kneecaps, possibly belly too. That should slow me down - until I bleed out. Then I'll resurrect and be after you again."

Merelyn nodded and dropped her gaze. Through the lenses of her protective glasses tears sparkled that Jack didn't think were for him.

"Why no chances for Ianto?"

"If he ever lets… If he ever learns how, he could take me out with a snap of his fingers."

"He's that strong?"

"Yes." Merelyn unloaded the cartridge from the .22, set them both on the table, reached for the semi. Jack caught her wrist. Her knuckles were red, grazed.

"Working out? Who was on the receiving end?"

"Just a bag."

He held her gaze. "No, _who_?"

"Me."

He tightened his grip on her wrist. "You did what was necessary to get your opponent down to your level - and you kept him there. Ianto would be veal now if you hadn't." At her stare, he added, "I debriefed Tosh and Owen."

"You didn't debrief me."

"In the morning. Owen said you put on a helluva performance."

"It wasn't a performance. I really felt the lust for Evan, the wanting. I made myself that way; Evan had to believe me. Ianto felt it too. I… used him. And it disgusted him. I disgust him." Her mouth tilted into a crooked smile. "And I needn't have cos Captain Jack came to the rescue. You'd have saved him. It's what you hero-types do. Just in the nick of time."

He shook his head. "I'd have been too late for Ianto. No nicks for him - except from that cleaver." He let her wrist go. "If you need someone to hit, I'll go a few rounds with you."

Her eyes ran over his height. "Nah, you'd sulk when I beat you. Boys always do."

"I am not a boy."

Her look was very considering. "No."

He stuck his hands in his pockets and nodded at the targets. "Want to try some more?"

They continued until her hit rate dropped and she was sweating hard. Jack realised she was shaking with fatigue. "Enough. Well done. Go home, get some rest. You need it."

She reloaded the gun. "No point. I won't sleep."

Jack took the weapon off her. "Try." Her rebellious look made him catch both her gaze and her shoulders. "You are no good to Torchwood sleep deprived."

"Jack, I'm always sleep deprived. I never sleep well in the city, though I'm better now than at the hospital. Just… not tonight."

Jack felt the knots in the muscles under his fingers. He kneaded lightly. She stiffened, then relaxed a little. "Massage would help."

"Tried that. Never managed to find a masseuse who blocked completely. They'd all leak something; reminders to pick up cat-food, or what weird tattoos people have, or what they were going to do to their partners that night - really bizarre some of those - or the curry they'd had the night before and the gas and crap they needed to get rid of and could they last til the end of the session. Not conducive to relaxation." She slipped out of his grip and picked up the gun. "I need to get better at this."

"You have, by a huge leap."

Her mouth twitched. "A quantum leap?"

"If you like. Okay, you can have ten minutes more. Then everything unloaded and locked away. Twenty minutes max. Don't make me come get you."

She nodded her agreement and brought up the gun, her face utter concentration.

Nineteen minutes later, quick, light footsteps sounded on the metal stairs up to the workstation level.

Jack emerged from his office in time to see the look of wonder on Merelyn's face as she took in the candles and tea-lights shimmering pools of soft yellow light around and on the old coffee table and the gentle sounds of a flute that floated around the Hub. The look altered to apprehension at the half-full bottle of oil, the chair, blanket and pillow set before the brown settee, the couple of white towels draped over his shoulder, and his half-dressed state of T-shirt, trousers with braces pushed down and bare feet.

"Welcome to Jack's Spa. First treatment on the house." He pulled the towels from his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow, tempting. "I don't give freebies to just any old employee." She stood looking at him, the hoodie she carried swinging loosely in her grasp. "I'm good. A quiet few months and a blond, blue-eyed Swede coincided in the Sixties, so my massages are pretty special. Be even better with a little of your lavender." Still she stood, silent. He came over, took her hand, held her palm to his forehead. "No leaks from this mind, I guarantee." He let her tug her hand away, only to catch her upper arm. "Let me do this for you, you need it." He rubbed her arm. "Just a massage, Merelyn, to help you sleep."

The look in the blue-grey eyes was completely unreadable. Then she slipped from his grasp, went to her workstation and came back holding out a little blue bottle.

He added a few drops to his bigger bottle of oil. She dropped her hoodie onto the coffee table, her gaze thoughtful on the oil. Don't ask, he thought.

"None of the tables are the right height," he said, setting the pillow upright on the chair and spreading a towel over it, dropping the other by the bowl of warm water on the floor. "Except in the autopsy room. But hospital-grade disinfectant…" He grimaced. "So we'll improvise. Slip your shoes off." Hitching up the knees of his trousers, he sat on the settee and spread his legs wide. He patted the seat between his legs. "Park yourself."

To his surprise, she complied without argument, perching on the very edge of the cushion. Careful of her dressing, he pulled her back a touch, so her thighs were bracketed by his, not so far she was in his groin. Reaching around, he manoeuvred the chair in front of them, then set his palms on his thighs. The wide straps of the black racer-back crop-top stared at him. Unable to resist, he leaned forward, put his mouth very close to her ear. The faintest whiff of lavender blended with the sharper scent of female sweat caught at his nose. "Take-"

With one fluid move she stripped the top over her head, the muscles in her back rippling in a way that made Jack dig his fingers into his thighs and feel glad she wasn't sitting right in his groin, which was precisely why he'd left a gap between. Her head turned a touch. "Do you want the trackies off as well?" Her voice was pitched as low as his.

"No," he said quickly, glancing down at the round black-clad bottom that flared so firm-soft and full from her waist, hoping the negative hadn't come out too fast. This was already proving harder than he'd imagined. "Just your medallion."

She reached around and undid the clasp, the flickering light playing over the musculature of her back again. Jack's fingers dug harder.

She twisted the silver chain around her hand, leant forward and draped her torso and shoulders over the towel-covered pillow, turning her head to one side.

"Put your hands wherever they're comfortable." Jack gathered her hair together, and his pulse, already too fast, picked up even more as silken strands kissed his fingers, caressed his palms. Not allowing himself to linger, he carefully twisted them up out of the way. The skin of her neck was very white. Reaching down, he lifted a cloth from the bowl. Water trickled, mingling with the melody of the flute. He squeezed the cloth and the trickle became a rush. With long, slow strokes he washed the sweat from her back and shoulders, keeping the cloth well away from the dressing, then gently dried her with the towel. Pouring a little oil into his palm, releasing the scent of the lavender, he hauled in a settling breath, spread the oil over both palms and set to work.

The tiny moans and catching sighs that escaped her as he found the knots in her muscles and firmly dug in the pads of his thumbs and fingers sounded erotic, incredibly erotic. She looked erotic too; eyes lightly closed, lashes long against her cheek, occasionally fluttering; bottom lip caught between little white teeth; the tiny furrow between her brows as he found a tight spot, her slight smile as he eased it away; the fingers of the hand on the pillow beside her face flexing and unflexing around the medallion.

Damn, he was getting uncomfortable. Thank God for baggy trousers - or he wouldn't just be uncomfortable, he'd be in real pain, pain growing greater every second. The temptation to hitch forward so that lovely round bottom nestled firmly against the swell of his cock, to drape himself over her, trace the delicate line of the skull behind her ear with his tongue, pull her back against him so he could bury his face in her neck, so his hands could slip to her front to discover the exact shape and feel of her breasts before one hand skimmed down, slid under the waistband of the trackpants to discover the heat between her thighs, was almost unbearable.

Down boy, he mentally smacked himself. She needed sleep far more than he needed to get his rocks off. Taking long, slow, calming breaths, he mustered all his fortitude and forced himself to concentrate solely on his hands, ensuring he kept his touch firm, business-like with no hint of sensuality, finding the tension and tightness, taking his pleasure in feeling it melt away under his fingers. He worked for over an hour, down and across her upper back, across her shoulders, up her neck, found the pressure points on her skull through the silky hair and all the way back again, until his fingers ached from the unexpected exercise and Merelyn was completely limp and had made no sound other than deep, relaxed breathing for a good ten minutes.

"Merelyn. Sweetheart. Lean back." Settling back into the settee cushions himself, he gently pulled her onto him. With a long sigh, she lifted her legs and curled, trusting, into his lap like a kitten. She fit well in his arms, this short stocky girl, better than he'd ever have thought.

How long had it been since he'd held someone, simply held someone, like this?

His eyes prickled, the old ache spread across his chest, and his arms tightened involuntarily around Merelyn as the pain constricted his breathing. She stirred and sighed and spread the fingers of the hand holding the old medallion loosely on his chest, settled her relaxed warmth more closely against him. The pain eased away and he wasn't sure if she was cause or cure. Almost feeling as though he was stealing, he stroked her hair. She had a generous heart, this girl, and somehow Jack felt she wouldn't mind his thievery, so he kept her in his lap instead of laying her on the cushions to sleep as he'd originally intended. Carefully, he stuffed the pillow behind his head, pulled the blanket up over them both, and rested his chin on the top of her head.

As he gazed unblinking at the small blue bottle shining in the tea-lights, old memories, too old and too many, slipped into his mind one after another, to be soothed away by Merelyn's warm, comforting presence. Eventually, the last fragment of thought faded. Jack closed his eyes and, encircled by the sweet scent of lavender, slid into the semi-conscious state that was the closest he came to sleep.

- - - - - - - -

Ianto found them in the morning, surrounded still by faint lavender and flickering lights.

Jack opened his eyes, placed a warning finger on his lips. Without a word, the younger man turned on his heel and went back down the stairs to the lift, taking with him the mellow aroma of the two take-away coffees he carried.

Jack tipped his head back on the pillow and silently cursed.

It was a full twenty minutes more before Merelyn groggily lifted her head. "Where…? Oh," she mumbled. Swinging her legs to the floor, she sat up, blinking. The blanket fell away.

"Feel better?" Jack carefully kept his hands neutral on the settee cushions wishing like hell she wasn't facing away.

"What? Oh." She raked her hair back from her face, then heeled her hands into her eyes. "God. How long did I sleep?"

"About three hours."

"That all? Feels like ten." She raised arms high in a joint-cracking stretch, winced as her side caught. Grabbing her crop-top from the floor, she pulled it over her head. "Have I got time to get home for a shower and change?" She stood, hesitating.

Jack rose too. "If you're quick. Take the scenic route, it'll be faster." She really didn't need to see Ianto's closed-in face just yet. He picked up his wrist device from the coffee table, opened the top section of the Lift. "I'll clear all this away. Here, don't forget this." As he gave her the little blue bottle, she caught his hand. Jack wondered if he was about to get kissed, wasn't sure if he was glad or disappointed when he didn't. The warm look he did get was almost as good as a kiss anyway, and a lot less complicated.

"Thanks. I feel really great." The blue-grey eyes were very bright and alive.

He flashed her a cocky grin. "Told you I was good." His gaze drifted down a little. "Your tattoo. It's fading."

She waved the medallion, its chain still wrapped around her fingers. "Have the real thing now. Mamo meant well when she gave it to me, but it's been the bane of my life." Her eyes clouded a little. "And now, now I'd give anything… Jack, Ianto needs to know someone cares, and he won't…"

He tightened his clasp. "He'll know. I'll make sure. Off you go, before someone falls in."

One final squeeze of his hand and she was gone, shrugging herself into the hoodie she grabbed from the table. Jack set about snuffing out lights, deciding he needed a shower and change himself before he saw Ianto.

Ianto didn't look up from his computer as Jack, hands deep in clean trouser pockets, approached him. Jack stood before the counter where two cups sat, one full, one empty, somehow feeling more like an unwelcome customer than the guy's boss.

Ianto turned his head. His blue eyes were as cold and hard as his voice. "What makes you feel you owe me an explanation?"

Sudden anger flared in Jack. "What makes _you_ feel you're owed one?" He snatched the full cup from the counter and left, having a hard time to not crush the container in his fingers.

The coffee was stone-cold and very bitter.


	11. Chapter 11

_Rated T?? __Adult themes._

_Thank you Allestian for dialogue tweaks!_

**Eleven**

"Jack! Stun gun. Autopsy room. Now!"

The strain in Merelyn's voice over the com had Jack running so fast he nearly fell. He skidded to a halt at the railings above the autopsy room.

Down below, Ianto and Merelyn faced off over the autopsy table.

"Let me go, Merelyn." One of Ianto's hands held a hypodermic to his other bared arm, the shaking tip of the needle a scant few centimetres away from the vein.

"No." Merelyn's fists were clenched tight. Sweat beaded her forehead.

Jack crept down the stairs as quietly as he could.

"Please, Merelyn." Ianto's voice was weary, pleading. Shaking more, the needle edged closer, almost pierced the skin.

"No!" ground out Merelyn. She hauled in a breath. "Cariad, you're still sick. I hadn't finished before…"

"I can't do this anymore. Let me forget. I'm not like you. All this… It's so hard."

"And that's what makes you the strongest, the best of us," said Jack coming up behind him. "Because it's harder for you. We need you."

Ianto's head turned. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face wet. "What for? Make the coffee? You've got _her_ for that now."

Jack stunned him, caught him as he dropped and lowered him gently to the floor.

Merelyn keeled over too, her exhaustion plain in the lines etched into her forehead. "Thank God we don't use Neuralizers to forget. He might have actually done it before I could stop him."

"Neuralizers?"

"Flashy thingys." She gave a shaky laugh at his complete non-comprehension. "Jack, you're hopeless." He helped her off the floor and she leaned weakly against the autopsy table, waving him back over to Ianto.

Jack checked the pulse in Ianto's neck, then picked up the hypodermic. "Is this pure Retcon? There's enough in here to make an elephant forget." He found himself actually considering letting Ianto go.

"Just a cry for help," said Merelyn quickly. "Believe me, he wasn't trying very hard. Besides, if he'd really wanted he could have taken an amnesia pill without anyone noticing, instead of hanging around til the others had gone and being all dramatic with me. Perhaps it's time for something a bit more dramatic back. My Mam wouldn't have hesitated. She'd have had him completely well long before now." Jack could feel her frustration at her own inadequacy. "Me - I don't quite have her strength of mind, in more ways that one." She heeled her hands into her eyes suddenly. "A whole week of blocking! Not so much as a second's break. I don't know how he managed it; he shouldn't be able to, not just like that. And I don't know how I managed to stand the silence." The catch in her voice had Jack reaching for her. She clung to him for all of three seconds before waving him off. "Well don't just stand there. Get him up to the SUV!"

Jack eyed the long body crumpled on the floor. "You could have said before I zapped him!"

Intent on his passengers in the back, Jack swerved suddenly to avoid the huge EU articulated lorry that appeared in the SUV's headlights. The artic rumbled past, horn blaring.

"It's left in Wales, Jack! They can remember, why can't you?" Merelyn glared from the rear-view mirror. "Remember which country you're in! You might be able to survive an RTA, we can't!" Her eyes widened. "Left, Jack, left! The word's only got four letters, which one don't you get?"

Jack corrected his steering and risked another peek.

Ianto lay cradled against Merelyn and she was rhythmically stroking his forehead. "Ianto. Cariad." Her voice was low and gentle, yet very compelling. "You're not alone, Ianto. Let it ease, love. We're here. We're all here, Lisa and Jack and Merelyn. We love you. Stay with us. You live. We're always here. You're never alone."

As he drove through the dark streets, listening to the low, gentle tones, Jack felt the ache spread out in his chest in a great, slow wave until it shut out the voice. He couldn't hear it, couldn't hear anything at all. He really needed to hear, he needed the voice to hang on to, or he was lost. His hands began to shake on the wheel, his vision began to blur as he fought to listen. Every single cell in his body became an ear, listening. If he listened hard enough he'd find the voice, be safe. He wanted to find it. He needed to find it…

A thread of sound came, banishing the pain. The sound grew, became words and a soft, gentle voice. "You live. We're here. Always. You're never alone."

Jack shook his head, found himself outside Ianto's tiny end-terrace house, wondered how he got there.

"Jack. Jack! I'll open the front door, you take him in."

"Why do I have to do all the hauling about?" he grumbled as he opened the SUV's rear passenger door.

Merelyn chuckled as she slid from her seat. "That _ass_ of yours is great for donkey work. Hey, mind his head!"

"My ass is great, period. And don't try and tell me you haven't noticed." Merelyn didn't even bother glancing back as she went up the path. "How about you?" Jack asked Ianto as he pulled him out of the SUV. Ianto's eyes remained closed. "No? Damn. It could have been fun, Ianto. But you're better off with her, far better. She has a lot of love in her heart."

"Jack!"

"Not that she's showing any of it right now." Jack got a better grip and staggered after Merelyn, Ianto draped across his shoulders in a fireman's lift. "No more takeaways for you, Ianto Jones!"

"Seems to me it isn't Ianto who needs to cut the takeaways." Merelyn held open the door for him before heading up the stairs.

"You have got to be kidding!" gasped Jack. "I'll never make it!"

"Then we'll just wait for you to come back and try again. Come on, Jack. It's not Everest."

"It might as well be." He hoisted Ianto into a better position, slowly lurched his way up and managed to turn into the bedroom whose lamp illuminated a queen bed that used up almost all available floor-space. With a final groan, he heaved the inert body onto the mattress that Merelyn had already stripped of its quilt and top-sheet. He braced his hands on his knees. Gradually, his heart-rate got back to normal. "Is that it? Is he okay now? Do we just go?"

Merelyn cut him a look from where she knelt beside Ianto, busily unknotting his tie. "Not me, I'm here for the night. All part of the treatment."

"But I thought…? In the car?"

"Simple reassurance, nothing more. It's what comes now that heals."

"But…" Jack found he couldn't actually remember much about their journey. "Okay, I'm staying too." He eyed the big bed. "It isn't as though there isn't room. It's funny, I always kind of imagined him coming home to a narrow single."

"He hoped to share it with Lisa, I expect." Merelyn slipped off the bed, came over to him. "Jack, you don't have to stay. I can handle it from here." She gripped his arm through the sleeve of the heavy grey coat. "Thank you. I couldn't have got him here on my own."

The hand on his arm was shaking. She was nervous. "I remember, you kept saying 'we' in the car. Me and you… and Lisa?"

She lifted a shoulder. "He loves her, remembers her. She's here."

"And I'm here too. And I'm not going anywhere," he added quickly as she opened her mouth to protest. "Miss a chance to observe a healing talent in her natural habitat? No way. So what do we do?"

The protest altered to acceptance, relief and something else he couldn't quite catch. "I… Okay, Mr Attenborough, you'll like observing this. We take Ianto's clothes off."

Despite her sudden grin Jack felt she was still concerned about something. "Don't worry. I won't-"

"I know. You let yourself care enough sometimes to be unselfish. I know."

"That was…" That was either the best thing anyone had said to him in a very long time, or the worst. He smiled crookedly. "You have very clear sight, Merelyn Evans."

She pulled a rueful face. "I hope my sight's clear enough for this. Jack, I… I've only done this - this acceleration process - on my own once before, for Mamo. It was very hard, left me weak for a long time, I mean pretty sick. This is different - healing not setting adrift - so I'm not sure…"

"And you wanted me to go? Merelyn!"

"Ianto should be fine by morning, I mean completely well. He'll look after me."

He caught her hand. "_We'll_ look after you." He kissed her palm as he had once before. "So let's get him in the buff."

Jack gave a long, low whistle. "Buff being the operative word! So that's what's under the cute suit. More cute. I had no idea!" His eyes roamed every inch of Ianto's well muscled, long limbed body.

"Expecting flab, were you? He's been working out. With me." Merelyn's tone was somewhat smug. "Now you know why he's so heavy."

"He is just … wow! Everywhere. If I'd known I'd have got him in the buff ages ago!"

"I don't think so. Like I said, you care enough to be unselfish. You knew he wasn't ready - for you or anyone else."

The perfect opening. "So… you and he… you aren't…?" He couldn't believe how hard it was to ask.

Merelyn merely raised an eyebrow.

He gestured vaguely around the bedroom. "I mean, you kinda know your way around."

She gave him a long look before finally saying, "You ever had his stir-fry? Or his pasta? He offers, you say yes. Always. Even if he leaves you at the bedroom door and heads for the settee after."

"Would you?" That came out so fast he had no chance of stopping it. "If he hadn't left?"

This look was even longer than the first. "If he's as good in bed as he is in the kitchen, I'd have been daft not to." She reached up and patted Jack's cheek in a motherly fashion. "As it is, peck on the cheek's as far as he got, Jack. I told you, he wasn't ready." She looked up through long lashes. "Besides, his thoughts have been travelling in a completely different direction lately."

"Oh? How different?"

"About a hundred and eighty degrees. He wants to see how the other half lives. But not tonight. Tonight he's a patient." She pulled the quilt up over Ianto and gently stroked his forehead, before turning mischievous eyes back to Jack. "You'll have to see what morning brings. Oh, tonight is _so_ going to drag for you." She pulled off her jacket, began unbuttoning her shirt. "Get 'em off, Captain Jack. You wanted to stay, let's see how you measure up."

She was stripped off and under the quilt before Jack had managed to get his boots off. Pulling Ianto's arm around her, she snuggled in as close as she could, laying her hand over his heart. She didn't bother to hide she was watching Jack.

"Well?" he demanded.

She wrinkled her nose. "Not bad - for an oldie who eats way too much greasy take-away."

"I take great pride in eating Chinese or a good Indian on a regular basis." He slipped into bed on the other side of Ianto.

"Too much isn't good for you - especially when their partners find out."

"D'you know that for a fact, or have you just pinched my line?" Merelyn laughed. After he realised he wasn't going to get a better answer Jack asked, "Is bare skin necessary?" wondering if that was why she was so comfortable in it.

"Mamo always said so. No-one thought anything of it when I assisted her and we stripped off in Llanmyrddin. Bit different at UHW. That's why I haven't tried this since Mamo."

"Anything in particular I should do - or not?"

Merelyn resettled on the pillow, ensuring her forehead touched Ianto's temple. "Turn out the light, then just be close. He knows you're there."

Jack stroked Ianto's cheek, then kissed it. "Get well, Ianto. We want you back. Sweet dreams."

He reached around and turned off the lamp, laid his head on the pillow so he could see Merelyn's outline across Ianto, and let his eyes adjust to the dark.

Five minutes later Merelyn said, "For God's sake, Jack, pack it in! You could at least pretend to sleep!"

"I'm observing. I want to see you do your thing."

"I'm doing it. What did you expect? The Vulcan mind-meld? Shut 'em!"

Obediently, he shut his eyes. About half an hour later he cocked one eye open, then the other. Ianto and Merelyn were both breathing as though asleep. Carefully, he twisted around and turned on the bedside lamp, then hitched himself closer to Ianto's warm length, wrapped his leg over Ianto's so it entwined with Merelyn's, laid his arm across Ianto's lean belly, rested his hand firmly on Merelyn's hip and settled himself in for a long night of watching.

_Have to mention, the whole forming of Merelyn Evans, her character, looks, history, this whole umpteen thousand words began with a single image of a girl and Jack helping a distraught, grieving Ianto through his front door. A __whole ten months so far spent in Jack and Ianto's company. Imagination. Just love it! _


	12. Chapter 12

_**Warning**__**!**__ Contains the smuttiest of smut, slash, het, J/I/M. Rated M. High level coarse language, very high level sex, adult themes. _

**Twelve**

The sun was warm on Ianto's face. Which was impossible. The sun never came into his room at this time of year. The sun breathed its warmth on him again. Sun couldn't breathe, either. Felt good, though, that sun that wasn't. He inhaled a long, deep, first-of-the-morning breath himself. Smelled good, too, and familiar. He really ought to open his eyes, begin the day, discover what was that sun. Today was going to be a good day, he could tell. A really good day. The best day in a very, very long while. His eyelids flickered.

Jack's head was resting on the pillow not twenty centimetres from his own, hair shining in the light of the bedside lamp, morning-messy, his mouth curving into a smile. Not his usual wide grin, but a gentle smile, full of welcome. Ianto's mouth curved into its own smile. Definitely a good day. Jack's gaze distanced a little, his smile broadened a touch. Ianto realised soft breathing warmed his back too, and an arm was around his waist that couldn't possibly be Jack's. With a quiet rustle of crisp cotton sheets, he twisted and lay on his back, turning his head. Merelyn's smile was just as welcoming as Jack's. Definitely the best day in a very long time. A well of happiness bubbled up inside him, threatened to burst forth in a great shout of laughter. Somehow, he managed to hold it back, felt it run like silver through his veins instead. He looked from one to the other. "I don't know which of you to kiss first!"

"Well, you could try age before beauty," said Merelyn. "Only that puts Jack first on the one hand but second on the other, which doesn't help. So it's a good job I was brought up proper and have manners and am willing to wait." Ianto and Jack both looked confused. "So hurry up, or I'll forget my manners and go first."

The kiss between the two men went on so long, and got so hungry and heavy and urgent, Merelyn thought she'd been forgotten. Heat radiated off them, and she wondered if she ought to slip away and simply let them enjoy each other. She must have actually moved because they let each other go, both breathing as though they'd run a mile, and turned towards her.

"Don't even think about it," said Ianto, grabbing her as Jack rolled off him and shoved him towards her. "Don't need pushing, Jack. Don't need pushing at all." Ianto stroked Merelyn's hair away from her face. "I love you too." _Almost as much as he does,_ he formed the words painstakingly in her mind.

She went rigid with shock at his comment, then melted completely as Ianto opened his mind wide as he bent his head. Ruthlessly, she shoved the six explosive words aside to examine later before they were drowned out by the kind of mind-mushing, talented kiss she hadn't felt since Gwion.

Oh God, how she'd missed this.

_You__'ll never miss it again._

She'd found her best friend.

_You'll __never be lonely again_.

Even when he found his next special love, a corner of his heart was hers. And when the inevitable came, if she went first, he'd hold her in his heart with his Lisa who would welcome her with open arms, and she'd live as long as he. She wanted to cry but the fierce joy coursing through Ianto's veins, and his sheer mischievous wickedness at the thoughts of what he and Jack and she were going to do right now kept her eyes dry.

By the time he let her go, she was breathing as though she'd run a marathon.

"Fuck that felt good." Ianto looked from her to Jack. "Saying that felt good too. Going to say it a lot more today. Probably going to yell as well, and howl a bit - so be warned the pair of you. But first…" He winced. "First I really need to pee. I'll be back," he intoned with a terrible European accent, scrambling out. He poked a finger into Jack's chest. "You. Hands off til I am back!"

Merelyn and Jack looked at each other across the vacant space.

"Well he's obviously fine, so how about you?"

Jack's expression was - what? Ianto's words made it vitally important that she knew exactly how Jack felt, but that black wall was as solid as ever, she couldn't _feel_ with the certainty she craved. How could anyone _know_ another with only an expression to go on? An expression that could lie? Used all her life to feeling at least something of every person she'd ever met, this man - this black wall - was so fucking _hard!_

So don't whine, concentrate, use your eyes and your brain. See, interpret as the untalented do. His expression was…? Concerned, caring maybe. Caring as he did for every member of his team, caring just enough to be unselfish. That's all it was, all it ever would be. Ianto was wrong. Throw a bucket of cold water over those six words. Forget them, and be grateful for that tiny bit of caring.

"Merelyn? There's a Mars in my coat pocket, or do you need more than that?"

"I - I don't need it. I don't need any chocolate." Physically, she was so okay it was scary. "It's weird. I mean I should - but I feel good, really good." She managed a grin. "I reckon you have a healing talent yourself, Captain Jack."

He smirked. "Got more than just healing talent. Way more. As you're about to find out."

From the way he was reaching for her, he wasn't about to take the slightest notice of Ianto's command. Not sure she could handle a one-on-one with him, to give herself time to get herself together, Merelyn shook her head, the corners of her mouth tilting. "Han Solo to the life, another cocky captain," she said, knowing the reference and her mocking amusement would throw him completely.

It did. "What is it with you? What's so funny?" he demanded. "Why am _I_ so funny? And who the hell is this Han Solo?"

"You really haven't heard of Lucas, have you?"

"Lucas? Lucas _who_?"

He almost wailed and Merelyn finally relented. "George Lucas. Whedon and Heinlein and the others I understand. But Lucas? How can Star Wars have passed you by?"

"You mean Ronald Reagan's Strategic Defense Initiative?"

"No, I do not, you deadhead! I mean films, books, a religion! Sci-fi. Sci-ence fic-tion," she enunciated with great exaggeration. "And fantasy. I quote. All the time. And you have absolutely no idea."

"Sci-fi! Why you… sad _nerd!_"

She cuffed him about the head. "I am not sad!" The cuff turned into tugging his hair onto his forehead. "Just too busy _living_ sci-fi, I suppose. Well, I grew up reading and watching it. McCaffrey and her Talents and dragons I found on my own; she gave better answers into what I am than any old 'wise woman' tradition Mamo fed me. Gwion pushed earlier stuff at me; like Asimov and good old Heinlein. Heinlein's just your sort of guy - as far as sex goes, anyway - way ahead of the accepted morals and mores of his time. Read him, Jack. Then you'll get to know Lazarus Long, aka Woodrow Wilson Smith aka the Senior." She raised an eyebrow, tempting. "Some fascinating parallels with Lazarus and a certain someone."

"Are you saying you accept aliens popping up all over Cardiff, the Rift, Torchwood, because of a mangy pack of writers and movie-makers?"

"Yes."

"That you accept me because of some cardboard cut-out sci-fi character from a book?" Jack's voice hit a new high with outrage.

"Lazarus is not cardboard. He lives, breathes as surely as you."

Jack made an extremely rude noise.

Merelyn's mouth twitched. "Heinlein had a theory; the theory of World as Myth. He reckoned all fictional universes are real, that they exist as parallel universes to our own, and that if we could get to those universes the characters we read about would all be real people as well." She waited for him to make the leap. It didn't take long.

"So now _I'm_ a figment of some two-bit scribbler's twisted imagination?"

"Twisted? Oh definitely. Anything's possible in sci-fi. As you'll find out if you read, and watch, and access the Net. Go on, Jack, give it a go. Betcha a tenner you end up as sad a nerd as me."

"You just lost yourself a tenner. But I'm not reading anything right now - except you. Bet that Lazarus guy's not half as 'long' as Jack Harkness. Lives and breathes? I'll show you lives and br-"

She set her hand on his chest. "Ianto. Today is about Ianto."

"So why can't it be about both of you?"

"I need to pee too," said Merelyn, and she scrambled out faster than Ianto. She forced herself to go across the room normally, even though she could feel Jack's eyes on her bare behind.

"Nice a-"

She whirled back around, a rigid forefinger ready to shake at him, and swallowed hard instead.

The sheet lay in a white swirl over his calves, one arm was crooked behind his head and the other was cupping the heavy sac of his balls. Mesmerised, she watched as he slowly drew his fist up the length of his half-hard, his palm circled over the plum-shaped head and all the way back down in one sensuous motion. "Nice ass," he repeated, his voice as lazy and deliberate as his hand. She swore his cock lengthened a good couple of centimetres from the single stroke. "And that's not bollocks."

"Yes it is," she muttered as she sped out the door chased by Jack's laugh.

She hammered on the bathroom door. "What are you doing? Installing a new throne?"

Ianto's answer was muffled, the image he sent of froth on his mouth clear.

"Hurry up. He'll be-"

Jack's hand caught her shoulder, and she leapt six feet in the air. He turned her around. There was a crease between his brows. "That 'age before beauty' thing. I'm older than you so he should've kissed me first." The crease deepened. "And better-looking so I should have been second?"

Merelyn leaned back on the door wishing the bloody thing would open. "So tell me you're not gorgeous."

"Can't. Cos I am." He caught her other shoulder. "And so are-"

"So am I. Yes. So Mamo used to tell me."

The door opened. Ianto, smelling of just the right amount of musky cologne, caught her as she nearly fell through, breathed toothpaste down on her. "Thank God," she muttered. "You took your time!" She shoved her way past his solid height into the bathroom.

Jack followed.

"Out!" Merelyn dodged, pointed at the door.

"Merel-"

Ianto grabbed him, hauled him back, pushed him outside. "She said out. There are some things girls need to do in private." He followed Jack out. "Besides…" He winked at Merelyn and shut the door.

Merelyn sank gratefully onto the loo and looked longingly at the shower. It'd take far too long, and she was hanged if she was going to miss a single second of what promised to be a world-class event, an event she apparently had an invite to. She contented herself with splashing cold water on her face, a quick once-over with the flannel of all the important bits, and using one of the new toothbrushes thoughtfully laid out by sink. A heavy thud against the wall outside made her quit brushing and hurriedly rinse. A final glance in the mirror above the sink had her grimacing at her reflection. Despite the cold water, her eyes were still puffy with sleep and sheet-creases ran down one cheek. "Jack loves me? Oh yes. I'm so gorgeous, how could he not?" She scrubbed at her cheek, pulled ruthless fingers through sleep-messed hair. "He likes me. It is enough."

Her reflection called her a liar.

She turned her back. "It has to be enough," she muttered and yanked opened the door.

Given Ianto's wicked thoughts, she shouldn't have been surprised it was Jack who was plastered to the wall. Ianto was slathered all over his front, holding his face, his mouth glued to Jack's delivering yet another of those kisses of his. As she watched, one of Jack's hands raked itself down Ianto's back, caught hold of a downy cheek and hitched him in even closer. Ianto moaned against his mouth. Merelyn crossed her arms over her ribs to try to control the sudden banging behind them. World-class was right.

Though Ianto's skin was paler, his muscles a little more defined, and Jack slightly more thickset, definitely older, skin not quite so tight over the muscle, they were so different from a man and a woman; equals in height and strength, strong and strong, rather than strong and soft. God, they looked bloody wonderful together. She hugged herself tighter, again feeling that urge to simply slip away.

One of Ianto's hands detached itself from Jack, reached, found her arm, tugged insistently down. Still kissing Jack, he shifted his position, twisted so his cock slipped free from where it had been grinding itself into Jack's hip and swung towards her like a diviner's rod seeking water. He, at least, really did want her there. Laughing softly at the impatience in his both his mind and his actions, she sank obediently to her knees.

His cock was as beautiful as the rest of him, and very impressive. Fully engorged, it angled perfectly at her mouth, too heavy and long to rise further. He tangled his fingers in her hair, and she felt what he wanted. Grasping the base firmly with one hand, she slid her mouth over the velvety head and down as far as she could straight away and used her palate and lips and tongue to fellate him strong and steady, loving the feel of his hardness filling her mouth, the taste of his saltiness on her tongue. Though he kept his fingers in her hair, not once did he push her head, and Merelyn sent out a silent thank-you to Lisa for teaching him to be so considerate. She wondered if Jack would be as thoughtful. God, Jack would… Jack would be better at this. Maybe she'd get to see. A trickle of moisture slipped down her inner thigh at that thought. She tipped her head, trying to look up at the two men. The movements above her altered, then stopped altogether.

"Hey, I want some of that!" Jack gazed down, his head still so close to Ianto's his dark hair brushed Ianto's temple.

"You mean this?" She drew Ianto into her mouth again.

"Oh yeah." Jack's voice was almost a sigh.

"But today is about Ianto."

Ianto grinned across at him.

"So why can't it be about all of us?"

Merelyn quirked an eyebrow at Ianto and was granted a nod.

She surveyed Jack's shaft. Neither as long nor as heavy as Ianto's, it rose out of the cloud of dark hair at its root as straight as a guardsman at attention, swung so high the deep-red head almost grazed his belly. She deliberately ran the tip of her tongue slowly around her lips, and it actually pulsed higher, did graze his skin. "I could be into a lot of things, Jack Harkness," she said, running one fingertip from root to tip, "but golden showers definitely isn't one of them. Go pee."

Ianto shoved him towards the door. "And clean your teeth." Without waiting to see if Jack complied, he swept Merelyn up with flattering ease, carried her quickly back to the bed and sat on the edge with her across his lap, thumbing her nipples.

"Oh shi- Wait. Wait!" Merelyn captured his hands. "Lots of other times with me, I promise." She squirmed. "Ianto! But Jack… What do you really want?"

He stilled instantly. The picture hit her before the words tumbled from his mouth. "I want Jack to fuck me."

She shivered. "You haven't ever… with a guy, have you?"

As he shook his head, Ianto shivered too.

"I think Jack has, just once or twice - or maybe a couple of million. Do you reckon he plans on using all those?" She tipped her chin at the little pile of condoms that had appeared on the bedside table, their wrappers shining in the light of the lamp, and the tube of lube that stood erect as a phallus by their side.

Ianto swallowed audibly. He gave an airy shrug. "There's six. That's only three each." He lifted Merelyn up, swung her around so she straddled him, trapping his shaft between their bodies. "And if he doesn't hurry up, there'll only be five." He buried his face in her neck, inhaling deeply. "You smell so good! Why haven't we done this before?"

"It got… complicated, remember?" She felt his apology and covered his mouth with hers so he couldn't say it.

His big hands kneaded her back and his mouth travelled down, reached a nipple. He sucked hard and she dug her fingers into his hair. "Oh God, Ianto!" Her hands moved unsteadily down, massaged the small of his back, one finger dipping into the cleft of his buttocks. His voice rumbled in his chest and he arched back into her hand before swinging his hips forward, the hard column of his shaft so hot it scorched her belly. Her sheath was empty, aching to be filled. She wanted him in her, not just grinding against her. She was almost at the point of damning what he really wanted and grabbing for a condom.

"Out, woman!" Other hands slipped around her waist, gripped tight and lifted, dumped her in a heap on the bed. Jack's wide grin took the sting from both his words and his actions. "This man needs a man. And you," his gaze raked her sprawled body, "_gorgeous_ though you are, just don't have the right equipment."

Ianto scrambled up the bed until his back hit the pillows. Jack kneed his way after him. Merelyn righted herself and sat back on her heels, raking her hair out of her eyes.

"Did you ever see such a beautiful smile?" Jack's bright eyes flicked to her for a second, his own mouth lifted into wondrously beautiful smile of its own. He held Ianto's face, his hands gentle. "Do you know how long I've waited to see that smile? See that smile turned on me? Didn't think it was ever going to." There was no apology in his tone, just a little regret.

Ianto's eyes never left Jack's face as he reached sideways. His hand came back holding a condom. He waggled it at Jack.

"Are you in some sort of hurry? There's so many games we can play."

"Jack, I want you in me so much I can taste it. Taste. Oh yeah." Leaning over Jack's lap, he put out his tongue and delicately swiped at the bubble of precome that tipped Jack's rigid cock, before rolling it around his mouth like a sommelier extracting every nuance of flavour from a prized vintage. "Mmm, if I'd known men tasted this good I'd have tried them before."

"Rookie." Jack's tone hovered between statement and question.

"Not for much longer," said Ianto, before bending his head and sinking down on the shaft as though he'd swallow it whole.

Despite his rookie status, he was doing a helluva job from the way Jack's breath began whistling through his teeth. He got so close to Jack, Merelyn couldn't tell where his hair ended and Jack's thatch began. Jack twisted his fingers into Ianto's hair and, no, he didn't push either. Not that he needed to. Eager wasn't the word, this was sheer enthusiasm. Ianto was even sneaking an arm around Jack's hip...

Jack clamped his free hand on the arm, tightened his fingers in Ianto's hair and tugged him away. His shaft slipped from Ianto's mouth with a slight plop, bounced against his belly. He looked down into the shining eyes. "Put the condom on - and don't play about." His voice was harsh. Ianto didn't play but Jack still hissed, hissed louder as Ianto slathered him in lube.

"Armed, primed, and ready for action." Ianto planted a final kiss on the angle of Jack's hipbone. He began to turn onto his front.

Jack pushed his shoulder back. "What are you doing?"

"But…"

Jack traced a thumb around his mouth. "Haven't I just told you how much I love that smile? What makes you think I don't want to see it?"

Ianto captured Jack's thumb in his mouth, drew it in deep.

Jack pulled in a long shuddering breath, pulled Ianto bodily down the bed so he was almost flat. "It's all in the angles." He looked over at Merelyn. "Hey, you. How much longer are you going to play voyeur? I could do with a hand here."

"No," said Ianto quickly. He caught Merelyn, clamped her firmly to his side. "Just Jack." He looked down at him. "I'm sure you can manage. Sir."

Jack gave a mock salute. "Whatever you say. Boss." He grabbed the lube and slung Ianto's calves over his shoulders.

Ianto's mind was leaping ahead, images clear and feelings a-jumble, anticipation tinged with apprehension increasing his excitement. He was broadcasting far further than just her. Though Merelyn hated the thought of dampening him down, if she didn't there'd be a hell of a lot of shell-shocked faces staring at each other over breakfast marmalade later.

"Ianto. Ianto, cariad!" She caught his chin and forced him to look at her. "You have to block. Build the wall. The neighbours…"

Ianto gave a small laugh. "They're gay!'

"I don't just mean next door. You must be reaching as far as the Bay! Block!"

He raised the barrier, strong and dense - and kept her firmly on the inside of it.

"No, Yan," she said with a shaky laugh. "I'm supposed to be outside."

_I'll never shut you out again._

One day he would, when he found his next special someone, but today he wanted her to experience everything with him. So she closed her eyes, let her head sink into the pillow and her mind sink into Ianto, and felt everything Jack did to him.

She bit her lip and breathed with him as Jack jacked his cock nice and slow; tensed with him as Jack slid his finger in; relaxed with him; tensed again as Jack added another; panted with him as Jack slid his fingers in and out in slow rhythm with the hand on his shaft. Somehow, she managed not to throw back her head and howl in triumph like a wolf at the moon with him as Jack's thick erection breached him, but soothed him as his wolf-howl degenerated into a gasp at the slow, steady penetration though she felt it as surely as if Jack was breaching her. The burning - red-hot-almost-unbearable-don't-care-cos-it's-Jack - that burst into spine-twisting, white-gold showers of oh-God-it's-better-cos-it's-Jack sparks as Jack hit his prostate.

Jack dragged slowly back, and they sighed at the loss.

Again that steady penetration, easier this time, accompanied by a long, "Go-o-o-d."

The word was more statement than question, but they answered, "Yes-s-s."

"Wha…? Merelyn." She felt her knee being grabbed. "Merelyn, look at me!"

Somehow, she managed to open her eyes and focus on the man who was giving so much bliss. Watching her intently, he stroked deep.

She and Ianto moaned.

"God, to be that close," breathed Jack. "That intimate…"

Jack was the outsider here, not her. The haze of pleasure retreated a little. Merelyn opened her mouth to apologise, but before she could, he asked, "What's it like?"

His eyes were intense.

"It's…"

He stroked deep again, and nothing came out of her mouth, out of Ianto's mouth, but deep groans.

"What's it like?" he asked again, his tone insistent despite the raspiness.

"It's… confusing. So full… but empty." She couldn't keep the longing out of her voice nor stop her hand from drifting down.

He gave a shaky laugh at that. "Time to make it about both of you. If that's okay with the boss?"

Ianto had the packet discarded and the condom on his erection almost before she realised what they were about. With sure hands, Jack rearranged them, helped her on so she faced Ianto. "Now we can both see that smile," he said from behind her back, his fist holding Ianto's swollen shaft upright so she could slide down. As she surrounded Ianto in soft, wet heat, Jack put his arms around her and surrounded her in warmth like hot chocolate on a winter day.

He simply held her for longer than she wanted, than Ianto wanted, his breath sighing into her ear. Just as they were ready to scream with frustration at the lack of movement, he used his arms to lift her, so she rose and sank as he stroked in and out. From the noises Ianto was making as his hips swung to meet them both, from the way he was feeling, he wasn't going to last long - and neither was she. The heat and white-gold sparks were merging now, spiralling together, ever higher…

Jack stopped moving, held her still. "Not yet, kids. Not yet." His voice was gritty.

Twisting one hand into her hair, he turned her head. "Kiss me."

She reached one arm up and back, and threaded her fingers into the short, spiky hair at the back of his head as his mouth came down, tightened her grip as his tongue curled around hers, delved as though he couldn't get enough.

"You look so hot!" cried Ianto, and she couldn't concentrate on the feel of Jack's mouth as Ianto's visuals overwhelmed her senses.

Jack she recognised, knew this was her boss, the man she worked so hard for, who she lived for, would die for in a heartbeat, recognised him from the way his dark hair fell over his forehead as his head bent down just as it did when he worked at his desk, but the woman whose head he held so close to his… This was her? Ianto saw her like this?

Gold highlights glinted in the glossy strands of hair between Jack's fingers. The lashes of her closed eyes looked ridiculously long against her cheek, her lips as her mouth melded with Jack's were red and full. The raised arm that wound around Jack's neck, that pulled him to her, was slim, shapely. Emphasized by the shine of her medallion, her breasts were creamy, lifted high, tight, the nipples darker, crinkled hard. Ianto's memory that they tasted better when he sucked them than the raspberry sweets he'd had as a kid made them suddenly crinkle harder. Jack had one arm across her flat belly and her skin was white against his darker shade, her muscle tone softer, feminine, against his harder, bigger male arm. Her hand over his was small. Under Ianto's hands, her thighs felt as smooth as silk. Yes, she - they - looked hot.

Jack released her and she rose and fell on Ianto of her own accord, eager now for climax, felt Jack keep his thrusts in time with her, felt Ianto's hips jerking to meet her and Jack. Jack's low voice sounded by her ear, encouraging them both, praising. Massaging her breast, his finger circling her nipple, he worked his other hand between their bodies. As he lightly pinched the nipple, he slid a wetted thumb into her tightly furled brown bud.

Merelyn gave a startled, "Oh!"

Jack withdrew his thumb as he pulled back from Ianto.

"Nooo, Jack!" she protested, wriggling back.

Jack gave both a low chuckle and what she wanted. His other hand left her breast, caught one of Ianto's hands, laced their fingers, brought them up so he could kiss Ianto's hand, lick his fingers. Sucking noises resounded in Merelyn's ear. Eagerly, she caught the hands with one of hers, turned her head, did some licking and sucking of her own. Ianto moaned, his hips jerked harder.

The sensations both men were creating were taking her so high breathing was difficult. Her heart pounded as her chest heaved. Merelyn knew she was writhing unable to kiss or lick anything now, could only gasp, only grip the men's hands tighter, knew her irregular moves were making it difficult for them, and didn't care. She closed her eyes, tossed her head. Almost, soon…

Jack's voice came by her ear again. "Look at Ianto, Merelyn. Let him watch."

The reality of Ianto's satisfying length filled her, the shadowy feel of Jack in Ianto was echoed by Jack's thumb. She just needed, just needed-

Jack deftly found her clit, pressed perfect. "Show him, Merelyn."

She grabbed Ianto's other hand, looked into his big blue eyes. Saw, too, a woman's face flushed with sex and utter pleasure, a woman with blue-grey eyes that opened wide. Her back arched, she cried out, and her sheath clenched as she came. She felt Ianto strain as she tightened around him, and knew she set his climax off, heard him swear louder than her cry, felt his bliss as he did. The knowledge sent her higher. After a long, ecstatic pause in time, she floated back to earth, went limp, and would have fallen forward except Jack was holding her too tightly.

"I'm still hard!" Ianto's eyes were wide.

"Yeah, me too."

Merelyn couldn't hold back a moan of loss as Jack slipped out his thumb.

"You liked that, didn't you?" He circled his thumb around her bud. She felt the unreleased tension in the hard, sweaty body at her back.

"Please," she said.

Jack gave a shaky laugh. "Haven't asked yet. You sure you can't precog?"

"Please."

Ianto grabbed another condom and the lube, tossed them to Jack. Back arching, he cursed softly as Jack withdrew from him.

"You a rookie, too?" asked Jack, busy behind Merelyn's back. "You tell me if it's too much, understand? And we do something else."

"It felt so good." Merelyn shivered at the memory.

"But you don't have the sweet spot a guy has back here. Besides, you're tighter than he is, and I can't… I have to go faster." She heard apology in his voice.

Ianto pulled her down, stroked her damp hair away from her face. "Yan," she said. "It - it's getting too much."

Smiling, he stroked the side of her face, kissed her gently, and set her outside the block. Merelyn breathed a sigh as her perception became normal. "Thanks." The blue eyes crinkled as he winked, grinned, slid his hands down her back and spread her cheeks apart.

The lube was cool, Jack's finger was hot, the head of his cock hotter still at her entrance. Merelyn held her breath.

Jack caught her shoulders and pulled her back up. He dug his fingers into her tense muscles. "Relax!" he commanded into her ear exactly as if they were in the gallery. Merelyn gave a choke of laughter and did exactly that. And with a, "Man, two cherries. My lucky day!" he was inside.

The pressure was enormous. That same red, almost-unbearable burning didn't dissipate, but spread and heightened, became something she craved. From far off she heard Ianto cry, "I can feel you, Jack! I can feel you both!"

Her lungs were on fire, her vision hazy. She exulted in the knowledge all three felt each other. She wanted to feel more. She wanted to move. She needed to move-

"No!" Jack's arms banded tightly around her ribs. "Hold still!"

Merelyn gave a helpless whimper and somehow, despite her desperation, held herself motionless.

All was suspended. Ianto's fingers gripped into her thighs. Jack's pants were harsh in her ear, his breath scalded her cheek. A trickle of sweat ran down her face. The panting slowed and Jack swallowed. "Okay. You're boss now. Go how you want."

With a sigh of relief, she tilted her hips up and forward, then wiggled back, further onto Jack than before.

"Oh God!" said Jack.

"Oh fuck!" swore Ianto.

"Oh yes!" hissed Merelyn. It felt so good she did it again, faster. And again, over and over, the craving in her tightening and coiling, still unsatisfied, until she was shaking, unable to move at all. So she let the men take over, carry her higher, one hand clutching at Jack's as he moulded her breast, his bucking increasingly urgent, erratic, the other gripping Ianto's as he lightly flicked her clitoris with the pad of his thumb and stroked deep and smooth and steady.

_Want to see Jack?_

His face was suddenly before her, as clear as if she was actually looking at him. Eyes almost closed, his expression was that utter concentration that meant he was close. A half-smile suddenly tugged at the corners of the beautiful mouth.

"Told you - we'd look - after you." His voice was breathy, as jerky as his thrusts. His eyes closed fully, his arms tightened so much she couldn't breathe. "Oh, sweet- sweetheart!" She felt him stiffen, felt his cock pulse - good, hard, muscle-wrenching pulses - saw his rapture, and suddenly Ianto's light touch was not enough. Tipping forward - Jack with her, heavy on her back - she trapped Ianto's hand against her mound, ground herself against his fingers.

This orgasm blossomed darker, deeper, oscillated on and on between back and front. Somehow she managed to remember to send the sensation on to Ianto in thanks. The feelings were still echoing as Ianto shoved them both back up and, hands on her hips, shortened his strokes to a flurry of sharp jabs. He screwed his eyes shut and cried, "Oh yeah!" in a way that had the echoes pulse together again in a final sweet, liquid ripple while Jack held her, rubbed his cheek against her ear.

- - - - - - - -

Chests heaving, Merelyn and Jack clambered awkwardly off, collapsed either side of Ianto. He put his arms around them, looked from one to the other, and began to laugh - loud, infectious, joyous laughter that was impossible not to join in.

_Though I've written __smut before, I've never written any quite like this. Please review or message, even if it's only a line, or I'll assume you all hated it and will crawl into a corner and cry and refuse to come out - not even for Lindt Intense Orange or a McVitie's Digestive or Thornton's Continentals…_

_Umm, actually delete the Thornton's bit, I will happily crawl anywhere for them. Hey, you Brits out there. One of you be an angel and 'port over a few Rum Truffles. Pretty please…_


	13. Chapter 13

_So, bar two (thank you, thank you bewildered butterfly and mysterypoet66!), you all loathed Chapter twelve. But you're still here… _

_**Warning**__**!**__ Contains smut, J/M. Rated M. High level coarse language, high level sex, adult themes._

**Thirteen**

"Wow," said Jack eventually, shoving his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. "Haven't done anything as wild as that since… in far too long."

"Haven't done anything as wild as that ever." Ianto's stomach gave an audible rumble and Merelyn giggled. "Breakfast." He looked from Merelyn to Jack and back. Merelyn felt her hand being squeezed. "If you want to go for round two, feel free. You've got twenty minutes. I'll be one minute in the shower, then it's yours." He scrambled out and Merelyn found herself staring at Jack for the second time that morning.

Seeing the I-dare-you look in Jack's eyes, and reminding herself that shyness now was plain ridiculous after what they'd just done, she returned the look with one of her own.

"You up for it?" queried Jack with a raised brow.

Her first thought was something along the lines of, "I should be asking _you_ that." But his cocky grin made her decide that was exactly what he wanted and that he had a very cock-y comeback ready. "Well, I better be, or we'll have to find something else to do. Have a deep, meaningful conversation maybe? You might let something slip you shouldn't. Picked up any new secrets lately?" Sudden panic gripped her; she had a secret of her own. "Or we could play I-spy or a nice game of Scrabble. How about Monopoly or-"

Jack closed on her, cuffed her wrists with his hands, pinned her arms above her head. "Such a sassy mouth, Merelyn Evans. Goin' to have to find a way to shut it up."

"Such a cocky sod, Captain Jack." Jack laughed. "Oh shit!" She'd still fallen for it. "Don't you dare!" He laughed again. "I spy my with my little eye something beginning with…" she chanted resolutely until Jack's mouth, still chuckling, effectively shut her up.

Her first untalented kiss ever, apart from Gavin Hughes in Fourth Year, and that didn't count because he'd been dared to snog the Freak by the rest of the class, nor did that time with Jack all those weeks ago because that had been for a reason and, besides, she'd been half off her face. It felt weird. Fantastic, but weird. With no mental connection with Jack, no emotion or feelings or imaginings directly attached, all her mind focussed on physical sensations.

His skin was smoother than Ianto's, no night-time beard grazed her lips. Jack's mouth was softer, his tongue gentler in her mouth, more exploratory, slower, tasting, almost tentative by comparison. At least to start with. He quickly grew more assured, demanding. His hands let go of her wrists, his fingers slid across her palms in a way that set the nerves tingling and laced themselves with hers. Her nipples pebbled hot and heavy, connected in a direct line to her belly, which clenched, and her sheath wept in sympathy. Acutely aware of the seconds ticking away, wanting to hold him, feel the texture of him under her fingers, learn the angles and planes of him, the smoothness of his skin and strength of his muscle, she tried to free her hands. Jack tightened his hold on her fingers, refused to let go. Eventually, she got past wanting to take it further, quicker, and simply abandoned herself to whatever he wished in the time given to them.

She felt good, far too good, better even than Ianto. Jack felt the danger, felt the warning light flash in his head. _Keep it fun, Jack. For sanity's sake, keep it fun._ He pulled away and grinned. "Nice, Merelyn. Real nice. That first kiss wasn't a fluke." He really needed to work on not letting his voice come out that husky again. Maybe not saying anything at all would be easier. He broadened his grin.

He was grinning one of those bloody grins but his eyes were dark as they looked at her, their expression completely unreadable. She'd give anything to be able to read something from this one man, willingly swap all her talent for some small insight into what he truly felt. How could the untalented bear this fumbling, stumbling around with no true knowledge of another to guide them?

Then he was kissing her again. This time it went on so long she wondered if he was ever going to let her come up for air, didn't think she'd care if he didn't. Ianto saved her from imminent asphyxiation.

"Shower's free," he called from the door. "So use it, you stinky pair." Towel draped around slim hips, he paddled off down the stairs.

"He's right. Come on." Jack hauled her up. He gave a shudder. "Yeast infections are _itchy_!"

In the shower he was pure business, like the night of her massage, ensuring her hair didn't get soaked, lathering her up quickly with Ianto's Aramis shower gel and rinsing her off, before soaping himself, kneeling awkwardly in the confined space so she could scrub his shoulders. He didn't linger over drying either, simply grabbed towels from the stack on the rack and chucked one at her, before towelling the wet out of his hair with vigorous fingers. They were no more than half-dry when he grinned suddenly. "Race you back!" Each fought to be first through the doorway, then they dashed back to the bedroom and dived onto the bed, laughing.

They lay, laughter dying.

"You smell like Ianto," said Merelyn.

"So do you."

Jack was still smiling, but there was that something at the back of his eyes again. If only she knew… No good wishing, take your best guess, as hit and miss as a stab in the dark, but it's all you have here. "Jack, are you in love with Ianto - like with Estelle, I mean?"

"No." Never again. Not with anyone. Fun times only for Old Jack. No-one got hurt that way.

"I'm glad - cos he's not with you. He loves you, but not like that."

"Yeah, I realised. How about you for him?"

Her smile held great affection. "Love him to bits, but no, I'm not _in_ love."

Because of fun times only, he had to ask. "How about me?"

She gave him a long, considering, serious look that had him worried. To his relief, she finally answered, "No, you're not for me." Her eyes crinkled and she swooped a fingertip down the length of his nose. "Too handsome by far. My tall, dark, mysterious strangers are still out there somewhere," she said, oddly using a plural. She gave a sudden grin. "Be wild if I met more than one at once." Her grin grew. "Especially if they're girls. In the meantime I'll have to make do with one singular flashy male. We're wasting time. How do you want me, Captain Jack?"

"On your back for good ol' face to face." He set his hand on her shoulder, pressed her flat, loomed over her, let her feel his weight. "I'm going to make you come _so_ hard, and when you do I want to be watching."

The look in the blue-grey eyes was pure scepticism. "In all of fourteen minutes?"

"That long, huh? Time enough for round three, too. Maybe even four." Jack bent his head and brushed his mouth along her jaw. His fingers traced along her collarbone, over her medallion, down between her breasts, settled around her waist. The tip of his tongue grazed its way down her neck, lingered on her pulse, felt it begin to speed. A sigh vibrated in her throat, hands twisted themselves into his hair. His own pulse began to pick up pace, his cock began to thicken. Satisfied, his mouth travelled further, down to one peaking nipple, his fingers skimmed their way down her flat belly to her curls, parted them, seeking…

The hands in his hair were loosening, hesitating. Merelyn gave a choke. Then she giggled.

Jack raised his head. "What?"

Her eyes were full of laughter. "Please tell me you've heard of Elvis."

"The King. Yeah."

"Ianto's singing." She tapped her forehead. "In here. 'Teddy Bear'. And, put it this way, no one's ever going to ask him to open an international."

Jack hauled himself up so he was on her level. "Would you rather help make breakfast?"

"No. No, of course not."

"Then a little concentration here would be kinda nice."

He looked really pissed.

"I…" How could she explain she'd deliberately let her mind wander because she was terrified of showing how much she cared? Her words to Ianto earlier came back to her.

_What do you really want?_

I want Jack. Forever.

_Tough. Cos that just ain't going to happen. What you have is now. __Give yourself away, risk the friendship. Love Jack how you really want and hold it in your heart. In time, it will be enough._

Jack's lashes were starred with shower spray. She cupped his face in her hands. "Concentration? I can do that." Slowly, she drew him down. Then held him millimetres away, switching her gaze from his eyes to his glorious mouth and back, until she felt him almost squirm with anticipation and strain to close the gap. She let their mouths meet - but barely, grazing her lips against his, until his breathing racked up real high and her heart thudded so hard she thought she'd break a rib.

"Concentrated enough?" she murmured against his mouth.

"Almost." Jack's voice came out as rough as sand paper. "You could take it up another notch or two." It was the last even vaguely smart remark he managed, because Merelyn drew him close and loved him, really loved him, in a way no-one had in over sixty years.

It wasn't fun. It was way past fun. It was devastating. All his finesse and technique went out the window and he lay back, utterly helpless. He let her do with him what she willed, biting his lip until he tasted blood, fighting to not respond with love of his own because he shouldn't, he mustn't. He just couldn't.

Merelyn gave him everything, and received nothing back. And it hurt. Hurt more than the taunts of the kids at school, more than when Gwion died, more, even, than easing Mamo. She wondered if Jack really was there solely because of Ianto, that she did nothing for him at all, but his cock stayed hard as wood and his hips jerked to meet hers every time. He said nothing. No encouragement nor praise, not even her name, his only sound great sobbing breaths, his only moves those convulsive jerks of his hips and his hands clawing, fisting at the sheet. Despite having said he wanted to watch, he kept his eyes squeezed shut. Only once, just for a second, his lids fluttered open as though he couldn't help himself, and finally, at last, she read what was in his eyes. It was panic. Sheer, unadulterated panic. Then she felt sad. Sad for Jack, that he couldn't let go, not even a little. And glad, too. Glad she hadn't kept it light, or she'd never have found out. So she kissed his eyelids, tasted salt, and loved him more.

He couldn't take it any longer. He shoved her roughly onto her back and thrust hard because he needed it to be over. He strained harder, the tendons in his neck rigid with effort. He felt himself spill and clung on tight. "I just… can't," he gasped into her neck.

They rolled apart.

Jack lay on his back, chest heaving. He felt like the survivor of a plane wreck. She'd shocked the hell out of him. And he'd scared the hell out of himself. He closed his eyes and swallowed. Fuck, he needed to apologise. "Merelyn. I-"

"Here." She handed him a corner of the sheet, then lay on her front, propped up on her forearms. "Wipe your face."

"Merel-"

"Wipe."

When he emerged from the sheet she was looking at him, a crease between her brows, not angry or upset, but as though trying to fathom his thoughts. Thank God she couldn't.

"Estelle," she said. "You know she's not the only one?"

"What?"

"I've never understood that 'there's only one in the world for me' crap. I mean, think about it. What are the odds of finding them? Only one in the whole of time and space? It's right to grieve, fitting. And after a time, it's right to move on, love again." The blue-grey eyes were very intense. "Hold the old loves in your heart, and they never leave you, they live on with you, they love you. There'll be so many loves out there for you. They'll find you, _if_ you let them." She touched his face, her fingers very gentle. She was trying so hard to make him believe. "You have time enough for love, Jack. Remember the joy with Estelle? You'll have that so many times over, because you have time. How I envy you. 'The more you love, the more you _can_ love - and the more intensely you love. Nor is there any limit on how _many_ you can love.' Heinlein was very wise sometimes."

_But it hurts so later. _

Merelyn took his hand. "Don't shut your heart, Jack. As the years pass you'll become less than human if you do. Be like that Evan, vile and lost. Promise you'll let yourself love."

Jack hung on to her hand, his throat too tight for words.

He was saved from answering by a heavy tread in the hall and, "I just want to be your teddy-bear," sung incredibly off-key.

Somehow, he managed what he hoped was an assenting smile, and let her fingers slip from his. He scrambled out of the way just in time to avoid the precariously full and rattling tray Ianto dumped on the bed.

"Here we go," said Ianto. "Energy food. Don't know about you two, but my energy stores are seriously depleted."

"Welsh Cakes for breakfast? Ianto!" exclaimed Merelyn, taking one of the warm scone-like cakes, dripping with butter, from the plate that sat amid Papa Bear-sized bowls of steaming sultana-laced porridge, glasses of juice and mugs of fresh coffee. "Here, Jack. These are seriously good."

Jack eyed the little currant-studded cake she held out. How was he supposed to eat when his stomach was in knots? Two pairs of eyes were watching; the blue-grey still thoughtful and assessing, the blue expectant and hopeful. Somehow, he made himself take a bite and chew mechanically, forcing it down with a smile and a muffled, "Mmm, seriously good." As soon as he could he grabbed a mug and busied himself with sipping coffee and scraping himself together while the other two busied themselves with their bowls. Gradually, the mellowness of Ianto's Best soothed his stomach, if not his mind, and he felt able to tackle his own bowl.

Back together in as good a shape as he could manage in a few minutes, he sprinkled a heaping spoon of sugar onto his porridge. "Those three we're meeting this morning won't believe their eyes if you serve them this, Ianto." The normality of his tone was encouraging.

"Why not? It's nothing special."

"It will be to them. They've only just come off sugar rations, and they're still on butter rations and there's about a week's worth on those." He waved his spoon in the direction of the Welsh Cakes.

"It's going to be hard for them, adjusting," said Merelyn. "1953… Will they be into Elvis?" The look in her eyes was the same as always; warm and friendly, nothing more, nothing less, and Jack knew she would continue as before, expected nothing more from him. "We can at least have the right music greet them at the Hub."

Ianto beat him to an answer. "Bit too early for Elvis. He didn't begin at Sun Studios until '54, and he didn't get known over here til later even than that. 'Heartbreak Hotel' got to Number Two here in '56."

Jack blinked at him. Merelyn's spoon suspended itself halfway to her mouth.

Ianto shrugged. "My Grandda was into Elvis."

"It'll be crooners for these guys," said Jack. "Dean and Perry and Ol' Blue Eyes."

"Sinatra's cool." Merelyn grinned. "And you can dust off your Glen Miller, Jack. They'll know him from the War."

"I'll dig out Cole Porter too. 'Anything Goes' was still going on in the Fifties." He drained his mug. "Coffee wasn't though. Not much ground around then, Ianto. Better get some instant in, or maybe the liquid sort. What's it called…? Camp. Yeah, Camp Coffee. Comes in a bottle. Yours'll look like river mud to them, and taste about as good." And Jack used the cover of Ianto's splutter to snatch the last Welsh Cake from under Merelyn's indignant nose.


	14. Chapter 14

_Rated M: occasional coarse language_

**Four****teen**

"'Night, Jack." Merelyn stood in the office doorway.

From his position by the open filing cabinet, Ianto watched Jack look up briefly and acknowledge Merelyn's farewell with a nod and smile before returning to his work. Merelyn waggled fingers at himself, and he saluted her with his own grin.

As soon as Merelyn had turned away, Jack raised his head. He followed her progress as she ran lightly down the steps, across the chamber and up to the lift, when he ducked his head away as she looked up. As soon as the jaws of the lift had closed, his gaze returned to the closed door, and stayed there until Ianto shut the cabinet drawer with a thunk when he bent again to his work.

Ianto picked up his clipboard from the top of the cabinet and quietly went about the business of locking up.

"All secure, boss," he said, a while later. "I'm off."

Jack tipped back his chair, stretching like some great, lithe cat. "Not staying tonight?"

"No. Sorry. I've got… other plans."

Jack grinned. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Well, bang goes my evening!" He smirked. "Big bang, I hope!"

Jack laughed, tipped his chair forward, picked up his pen and resumed his work.

In the doorway, Ianto hesitated. He pulled a key from his pocket and turned it over and over in his fingers. "Merelyn's never stayed, has she?"

The pen stopped travelling across the paper, but Jack didn't look up. "She never asked."

One corner of Ianto's mouth lifted just a touch. "No, she wouldn't. So why haven't you asked her? We've noticed, you know. Me and Tosh, I mean. You can't keep your eyes off her. She's the one secret you can't seem to hide. Except from Owen, of course; he can't see anything since Diane." Ianto's voice was tinged with sympathy and faint surprise that he actually felt sorry for Owen Harper. "Merelyn knows; she's picked it up from me. But she doesn't believe it, thinks I'm mistaken."

The pen resumed its journey. "Goodnight, Ianto."

Ianto came up to the desk, set the key down in the precise centre of the page. "She gave me that. Told me to use it any time I needed. And I do. Only thing is, it isn't me she hopes to see when the door opens. But she welcomes me in just the same, and gives all she can."

Jack stared at the key shining on his desk.

"And it's the same when you come round to my place," continued Ianto. "You ring the bell while you wish you were at a different door. And I let you in and we have a good time - while part of you is somewhere else."

He did look up at that. "I'm sorry."

Ianto raised a shoulder. "We have a _good_ time, Jack. But you're not my next Lisa - or do I mean Lewis as you're a man? I'll meet them, whoever - whichever - they are, one day. I can wait. But Merelyn, now, she _is_ your Lisa, isn't she?"

Jack remained silent.

"Don't waste it. Don't waste her."

Still he remained silent, twisting the lid of his pen around and around.

Eventually, Ianto shook his head. "I don't understand what you're scared of," he said as he headed for the door.

"Wait." Jack picked up the key and came over. Curving one hand around the back of Ianto's head, he kissed him, long and loving. When he had done, he pressed the key into Ianto's palm, saying, "Don't get changed. Whoever it is will love the suit," before going back to his desk, sitting in his chair and swinging it around to his computer screen.

Ianto watched him wake up his terminal. He tried again. "She says she's not the one for you. D'you know why? This is the funny bit. Because she's too ordinary. She actually thinks she isn't good enough."

Jack's eyes didn't waver from the screen, nor his fingers hesitate on the keyboard. "Goodnight," he repeated with just enough emphasis for dismissal.

"So tell me Merelyn's right, that I'm mistaken."

Jack swung the chair slowly around to face him. His eyes were very hard. His jaw was set. "You're mistaken."

"Sod it, Jack. Sometimes you're an even bigger prick than Owen."

Jack worked steadily for several hours. Finally, he shut down his terminal and turned back to his desk.

The grey-green heads of the lavender Merelyn brought him every week after her day off were drooping, dying. Jack reached out to the little vase and broke off a flower-spike. It fell apart in his fingers and he crushed the tiny flowers, held them to his nose as they released their final burst of sweet perfume. Eyes closed, he took one long, last breath before letting the flowers drop to the desk.

He stared at the scattered flowers for a long time. Then with one sweep of his palm he brushed his desk clean. Opening a drawer, he took out the map analyser and a small tray of precision tools. He turned the analyser on and off several times, mouth compressed into a dissatisfied line. Hunching over the desk, he began to dismantle the small slim cylinder with extremely careful fingers.

- - - - - - - -

"Ianto," mumbled Merelyn sleepily as he clambered into her bed.

"Shh," he whispered.

Barely awake, she snuggled in to him and sank back into complete oblivion.


	15. Chapter 15

_**Warning! **__Contains smut. High level coarse language. Medium level sex – if there is such a thing. Adult themes._

**Fifteen**

Much later, Merelyn began to surface from the depths of sweet, blessed, dreamless sleep. Ianto's fingers were lightly circling one of her nipples. "Mmmm," she murmured, eyes closed, still half-asleep. She stretched, arching into his hand. "How much time have we got?"

"All the time in the world, sweetheart," came a lazy drawl.

Merelyn's eyes flew open.

Lit by her bedside lamp, Jack was in her bed, head propped on one hand, amusement at her shock crinkling his eyes. Clutching the quilt, Merelyn scrambled as far away as she could. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you to wake." The crinkles deepened. "Sorry about…" He twirled his finger around.

Her eyes were huge.

"You snore, you know that? Nice and light, not too loud. But four hours is enough. I need variety." He edged toward her, and she backed off, almost falling over the edge of the bed. "Moans and sighs and obscenities and blasphemies. Oh, and whimpers. Yeah, definitely whimpers - though I kinda hope they'll be mine-"

"How did…? Ianto. Ianto put you up to this. He gave you his key. I'm going to wallop him when I catch him!"

"I'd like to see that. He might like it too. I didn't need his key." Jack looked smug. "_I_ have a sonic screwdriver. I finally managed to configure it last night. Still not as versatile as the original, but I'll get it there. I just need a-" He broke off at the stormy look in Merelyn's eyes.

"What do you want?" she demanded.

"Now what _was_ that?" he mused, stroking his chin. "Ah, I remember. I want…" He pinned her with an intense look. "You."

"Don't - don't be stupid. Why are you here?"

He reached out to finger-comb sleep-mussed hair from her face. She jerked away. "Because, of all the places in the universe, this is the place I most want to be."

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed and sat, shoulders bunched, hands digging into the edge of the mattress. "N-no, it isn't."

"And you know that exactly how?" Jack reached out, set his hand on one shoulder and forced her look at him, reminding her with his touch that with him she was completely blind.

"It isn't you, it's…" She turned her head away. "I…"

"'You' what?"

"I-I'm not…"

"Not the one for me?" She remained silent, face still turned away. His eyes narrowed. "It isn't that, is it? You really think… God, for an intelligent woman, sometimes…" He hauled himself over and knelt on the bed, caught both shoulders this time and relentlessly turned her around. "All I am is a man, Merelyn."

She simply looked at him, her expression utterly miserable.

"You have a real problem with yourself, don't you?" Still she sat, so tense with self-doubt, Jack wanted to throttle everyone who'd made her that way, either inadvertently or on purpose, from her talented gran and mother all the way through to emotionally unintelligent and stunted males like Owen Harper. "Right, get up!" He grabbed the quilt away. "Up! Up!" Catching her hand, he dragged her out of bed. His eyes searched the room. He yanked open the wardrobe doors. "Even you must keep one mirror in this place!"

"B-bathroom," stammered Merelyn, pointing at the ensuite.

He whacked open the door with a flat hand. The door bounced right back. He moderated his push and the door remained open. "Could they have built it any smaller?" His frame dominated the tiny, narrow space. He switched on the light. "Is that it?" He stared with horror at the mirrored doors of the cabinet directly opposite.

"Back of the door. Where else could it go?" Merelyn had recovered enough for her tone to be tart.

Jack hid his smile. Hand on her back, he propelled her in and shut the door. There was just enough room for them to stand side-by-side without falling into the bath. "Even that's not full length. Never mind, it'll have to do. Now, me first. Tell me what you see." He struck a classic pose, deliberately over-doing it; feet wide, planted firm; hands fisted on hips; shoulders well-back; head at an angle to the mirror so it was seen half-profile; chin raised and proud.

Merelyn folded her arms. "You're being ridiculous."

"No, I'm not. You are."

She made a break for the door but Jack was too fast. "Ah-ah-ah. Or I'll tip you in the bath and turn the shower on - cold."

She glowered at him, crossed her arms again. "So pose, you - you - poster boy!"

Muttering, "No precog, huh? Or do I mean 'path?" he resumed the position.

Merelyn took a breath.

"Hang on, I'm not sure that's my best side." Taking his chin in his fingers, he turned his head this way and that and considered. "No, right first time." He resumed the pose, stuck out his chin even more and plastered a big, bright smile on his face. "Okay, go ahead."

"You look like an ad for hair gel and dental floss."

"Details. Look properly."

She took an even bigger breath, then expelled it. "Alright. Your hair needs less gel and a trim; it's in your eyes, and it'll get in the way the next time you need to shoot straight."

"I'll make an appointment. Isn't it just the right length for you to tangle your fingers in, though?"

"Use less gel and I might consider it."

"That's a start. Go on."

"Your ears are… Well, they're kind of elfish."

Jack threw back his head, gave a great hoot of laughter. "Just call me Elrond!"

Merelyn threw him an annoyed look. "I said 'elfish' not 'elvish'. Appreciate the difference. In spite of Mr Jackson's attempt to convince the world otherwise, as far as I'm aware none of the Eldar have pointy ears. Don't just watch the films, read the books!"

"But they're fantasy and I'm still working my way through sci-fi."

"Okay, but make sure they're top of the fantasy pile. So where were we on this absolutely unnecessary ego trip? Eyes. Did you know they change colour? If you wear blue or grey they look the same, but if you're in brown they're sort of hazel."

"Really?" Jack peered at himself in the mirror. "Remind me to check next time I'm dressed."

"Strong jaw-"

"Chiselled. It's called chiselled-"

"With a cleft, not too deep. Not much five o'clock shadow-"

"Yeah, it's, uh, kinda slow to grow."

"Your teeth are a dentist's wet dream. And - and… Oh, this is ludicrous! Basically, you're matinee idol from top to toe."

"You're not looking properly. Details."

Merelyn huffed out a breath. "This is still ludicrous. Alright. Shoulders. Great as any guy's who works out a bit - but not Mr Universe, thank God."

"You skipped something. Never mind." He flexed his biceps.

"Don't do that at me. I know you have great arms. Very capable. They can hold someone, two someones, all night." Her voice softened. "And your hands are very capable, too. Skilled, considerate and careful and-"

"Don't you dare say kind!" Jack stared at his hands. "They have been cruel too."

"Yes." Her gaze was very steady. "And cowardly."

"I…" His protest died under that steady gaze.

She shook her head. "Facing death is a doddle. Facing life? Oh, that's the toughie."

His throat was too tight to let out words. In the end he didn't need to because she took his hands, prayered them between her own. "They're learning to be brave. Learning more every day."

He managed a smile. "So how about round the back?"

"You're not as trim as you should be back here." Surprise coloured her tone. "Need to work on those glutes."

"Yeah. And you know what? Nobody notices because I don't care. Okay, back to the front."

"Your abs could do with a bit more work, too."

Jack merely grinned. "Next?"

"Average sized dick-"

He shimmied his hips, set his cock swinging. "Which despite your last experience I do know what to do with. Brilliantly." Merelyn rolled her eyes. "What more could anyone ask for?"

'Well, it could be big _and_ you could know what to do with it."

"Like Ianto," they said in unison, eyes alight.

"Great legs." Merelyn sighed. "Nice and long. Strong thighs and calves." Jack wiggled his toes. "Feet. I've never really looked. Hmmm. Straight, no pronation. Clean. Short nails that don't scratch." She looked up. "That's it. Jack Harkness, matinee idol."

"That's not it. You missed my mouth. Tell me about my mouth, Merelyn." His voice caught. "Please."

"Jack, I…" She pressed fingers against her own mouth.

"Please."

She reached up and traced the shape of his lips with one shaking fingertip. "You have the most beautiful mouth I've ever seen on a man, that I've ever seen on anyone." She shook her head, but the corners of her mouth twitched. "And don't you just know it."

He hauled in a long, ragged breath, managed a hint of a cocky grin. "Know what to do with it. Merelyn, once we're finished here, I'm going to use my mouth - and teeth and tongue - on you. I'm going to kiss and lick and suck and nibble and nuzzle because I don't give a molar if I'm a dentist's wet dream as long as I'm your wet dream. And I'm going to use every other bit of me on you - with you - too, until you admit I _am_ your wet dream. But not until we're finished. Now. Your turn." Jack turned her to the mirror and waggled his finger under her nose. "And be fair!"

Merelyn hauled in a breath of her own. She stood as he had, feet apart, hands fisted on hips, and pasted a huge false smile on her face.

Jack sighed. "You are not a man." He held her chin. "You're a woman. Stand like one. Come on. Femininity, sex appeal, allure, challenge even. Imagine you're on TV. As you are now, butt naked-"

"And that's supposed to help how?"

"There's billions of girls and guys out there. Make every single one of them want you. And make every single one of them feel they're not worthy to kiss your littlest toe - which they're not."

"I c-can't."

"You can."

"I don't know how!" There was the beginning of a wail in her voice.

He gave her chin a tiny shake. "Don't you go all wussy on me!" He stroked her cheek with his thumb. His mouth tilted. "Facing a dozen Evans is easier, isn't it? Okay, shut your eyes. Put one foot forward a little, curl this hand on your hip and let the other just hang. Stand proud. And relax! Now, think of…" What? Suddenly, he had it. "Think of Ianto that first time. See through his eyes. Remember how he felt as he looked at you." Jack moved in close behind her, slipped an arm around her waist, let her feel his body against hers. "He called you hot," he murmured by her ear. She arched back against him, and he knew he had her.

"Ianto was calling us _both_ hot."

Merelyn still had her eyes closed so Jack didn't need to hide his smile. She was so tough. He put his mouth even closer to her ear. "Bet he's called you hot since then too. And a whole heap of other stuff."

Merelyn chuckled. "Bet he's called you hot as well."

"As he should. Because we are." He really wanted to kiss her. Almost did. Let her feel his breath on her mouth before he drew away. "Okay. Open your eyes and tell me what you see."

He really was a manipulative sod, and trying _so_ hard. And, though he might deny it, so kind. Merelyn knew what she'd see when she opened her eyes. A short, stocky woman with a helluva guy standing behind her. Such a helluva guy that she'd play the game to its conclusion because he seemed to need it.

She opened her eyes and saw exactly what she expected. What she didn't expect was the look on Jack's face as he gazed at her reflection.

Her breath caught. One hand crept to her cheek.

"Look." He smiled. "And be fair."

She cleared her throat and concentrated on her own reflection.

"M-my hair's well cut. It frames my face, softens my jawline."

"Colour?"

"Just brown. Mousy brown."

Jack rolled his eyes. "It's the colour of caramels. You know the sort, the soft ones that melt in your mouth when you bite them, or vanilla fudge-"

She had herself well in hand again now. "The sort that rots your teeth."

"-and it's clean and soft and sifts thorough my fingers like silk, and it smells incredible. What shampoo do you use?"

"Anti-dandruff."

"Oh yeah? Me too. I'll change my brand. And the brain in here… So amazing and quick. Tosh can't get over how fast you catch on. Owen's the same - though I only know by his complete lack of mentioning it." He traced a fingertip over the shell of an ear. "Your ears listen, really listen. And your eyes… So beautiful and so clear sighted." He swooped his finger down her nose. "Cute, and can smell danger a mile off." Holding her gaze in the mirror, he traced his thumb around her mouth. Her eyelids fluttered at his touch. "Delivers such sass and sympathy, and such mind-blowing kisses a guy wants to die." He set his hands on her shoulders. "Squared and braced and ready for everything life throws at them." His hands kneaded. "And far too tense. Relax!" She didn't, but he slid his hands down her arms anyway, pulled her back against him, because she would relax later; he'd make sure. "Arms that hold so well they heal, and so caring they help let go." He cupped the back of her hands with his palms and lightly laced their fingers. "Gentle, and clever. Accurate with blade and firearms."

"Killers." She was stating a fact not expressing a regret.

"Only when death is best." He kissed one palm, held it to his face, felt her relax just a touch, saw a smile brush her reflection's mouth.

"My breasts are small - but a nice shape, I think, and I don't always-"

"Need to wear a bra. I'd noticed."

"You had?"

"We _all_ have."

"Oh."

"Don't you dare! You'll ruin Tosh's day." He circled one finger around her areola like he had earlier, watched in fascination as it tightened at his light touch, couldn't resist the temptation to do the same to the other. "Just look at that pink! I bet you darken through a dozen more incredible shades just before you come. I bet the whole of your chest and breasts flush - and I didn't get to see… Didn't even-"

Merelyn's eyes flashed. "If you ever try to apologise for that again, Jack Harkness, I'll knee you in the balls!"

Jack's grin was very crooked. "And underneath beats a heart so generous, I swear it would love every being in the universe if it could. And for some incomprehensible reason, a reason I just don't get, it loves me." Jack let his wonder colour his tone, was rewarded with sparkling lashes and sniffing, felt like doing some sniffing of his own.

He wrapped one hand around her ribs, the other lower, across her flat belly. "Strong. Took a shotgun blast and kept going."

Merelyn's mouth compressed. "Stupid. Got shot in the first place."

Jack shook his head. "You needed to be first through the door. As for getting shot, a mistake. A mistake you'll never make again. Like I said, strong." He pulled his hands back to her waist before she could argue and looked down at her back. "One day I'm going to take you back to that store, strip you off and pull every single mirror they've got around you so you can see just how beautiful you are back here. You ripple when you move like - like water over stones, and the shape…!"

"Like a double bass."

"Viola. Vintage Stradivarius." He smoothed his hands down. "Your ass." He kneaded gently. "Not 'nice'. Not nice at all. It's gorgeous, utterly gorgeous. Soft and round, the way it jiggles when you move… God, it's more distracting than Ianto's suit! It's just p-"

"Don't even think of calling it peachy. It's way too big to be a peach."

"It's just perfect." He slid a finger down her deep curving cleft, over her coccyx, and lightly tickled the tightly furled brown bud. "In here, hot and tight and welcoming; a guy feels he never wants to withdraw." He moved around to her front and went to his knees. "And around here, so responsive - and the perfume…! Dizzying. And in here…!" Merelyn grabbed his shoulders. "Warm and wet, and when you tighten around a guy he feels so wanted and needed and necessary!"

Merelyn's eyes were glowing, her nipples crinkled high and tight.

"So how about the rest?" he asked.

"What?" She swallowed. "Oh." Her nipples lost their pucker. "Let's skip the next bit, go straight to my feet. I think my feet are pretty. I like them."

"You have beautiful feet and one day I'm going to lick and suck every lovely little toe. But not today. We will not 'skip' anything. What about these?" He ran his hands down and up her legs.

Merelyn pulled a face. "Lengthwise, they're in proportion with the rest of me, I suppose. But they are too big and no amount of work will change that because the underlying structure is too big. However, they function, I'm grateful."

"They function great. They carry you fast when you need to run and take you steadily forward into danger for your friends. And they are the perfect length to wrap around me." His hands stroked the back of her thighs, he rubbed his cheek against the front. "And I love every broken vein, every hair, every splodge of cellulite because…" His head tilted up. His gaze was intense, utterly serious. "Because I love you. Surely you know that now?"

"I _know _nothing," she whispered, eyes very bright, and Jack sensed her frustration for that lack. "I have to fall for the one man on the planet where I _know_ nothing."

"So risk a leap in the dark - a quantum leap - like every other member of the human race with no talent. You have a brave heart, Merelyn. Leap. Or I'm lost." He gave a helpless lift of his shoulders. "Because I have no words left."

A slow smile lit her face. "Oh boy." She touched his hair with unsteady fingers. "Jack, I didn't mean me."

One corner of his mouth tilted. "No, you wouldn't, would you? Now, still think 'you're not'…?"

Merelyn stroked his hair. "So, I don't have to be beautiful to turn you on?"

Jack glanced down at his hardening cock and raised a sardonic eyebrow. Then his eyes narrowed. "You're quoting."

"Well, take us out Mr Sulu! You started it." She tugged a tuft of hair gently. "Don't have to be rich to be your girl?"

"James T Kirk. And that other definitely better be a quote." His lip curled.

"Don't have to be cool to rule your world?"

"Now that I like, quote or not." His hands tightened on her thighs. "You rule my world," he said, unconsciously quoting as well.

"I like that too." Merelyn's hands wound themselves in his hair. "Are we still on telly?"

"No. Any other time we'd be the highest rating show ever. But not today. Today there's just you and me, no-one else, not in all the world."

She tugged his hair again, not so gentle this time. "So get off the floor."

"Why? Most intoxicating perfume in the universe, remember?" He buried his nose in her curls and inhaled deeply.

"You want to fuck on my bathroom floor?"

"Oh yeah…! No. Maybe." He scrambled to his feet. "No 'fucking' today - at least not to start with, though it might kinda degenerate into that later." He put his hands around her waist and lifted. Merelyn wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso. Jack gripped her bottom. "It's long, luscious, lazy love for us today, which means comfort, which means your bed." He fumbled with the door handle and banged Merelyn's back against the door. She laughed. "When are they going to start making these places bigger? Bathrooms are supposed to be opulent; marble and palms and bubbles with spas big enough for ten."

"Ten?

"Oh yeah, at least. Ten is fun, though sometimes confusing; so much going on. Specially if two of them are nonopoids from Gis."

"Are there really nine-tentacled aliens?"

"Don't start doubting now! Out there, there's everything in a sci-fi nerd's wildest dreams - as well as a few nightmares. About the only thing there isn't is little green men on Mars. They're more a dull ochre."

He stood her on the bed so she could enjoy being taller and she gazed down, cupping his face in her hands. Slowly, she bent her head to his and kissed him until his toes were curling and his shaft was hard as stone, as though her whole being was concentrated in the kiss.

"Wow!" he managed as steadily as he could with his chest pounding. "Do you know how good you are at that? And at all the rest?"

"Not so bad yourself, Captain Jack. Don't!" She laid a finger on his mouth. "Do you really want a knee in the balls? You have Gwion to thank. He was a good teacher."

"Was he your first?"

"Gwion was…" Merelyn saw the tall dark-haired figure with laughing blue eyes clear in her mind. "Gwion was hot. You'd have been after him faster than Kirk after Klingons. Or maybe he'd have been after you."

"Sorry I didn't get to enjoy the chase. But was he your first?"

She didn't bother with the jealous query because his hands on her waist hadn't tightened and his eyes reflected nothing but interest and a huge amount of love. "Gwi was the best." Yet even Gwi had made mistakes.

Jack's mouth tilted. "Like Ianto?"

"Yes." So like Ianto. But… not. "He was many things; leader, partner-in-crime, coach, teacher, healer, knight in shining armour."

"Knight?"

"Fate worse than death he saved me from."

"Tell me, Yoda."

"What? Now?"

"Yes now."

Jack's hands had tightened, so she continued slowly. "There was a boy. Gavin Hughes. Gav, the leader of the gang. His mates bet him to snog the Freak in front of the class." Merelyn's mouth took on a decidedly malicious twist. "He enjoyed it. A lot. I made him." She gave a small laugh. "Mamo would have skinned me alive if she knew. I thought it would belittle him in their eyes. Adolescent males; I felt their minds yet still didn't understand. They just thought he was putting on a good show. 'Go for it Gav.' 'Good old Gav'. They didn't even notice the stain on his trousers. But Gav… He had patience, I'll give him that. He had to wait til the following summer to catch me." She busied herself with tidying Jack's hair. "Five of them pinned me down. Gav had my knickers in tatters and his hand…" Jack's fingertips dug into her hips and she smoothed his hair. "Then he was unconscious with a lump on his head as big as an egg and a broken nose where he hit the boulder, along with two more of his mates. The others scarpered as fast as they could with piss streaming down their legs. Bit unnerving, seeing your mates flying through the air faster than speeding bullets. They thought it was me, as though I had that kind of kinetics. Gwi was home, thank God, had 'heard' me yelling. He carried me back, ran the bath, tucked me up, sent me to sleep. For a while. Later, I went to his room…"

The carpet had been rough to her bare feet as she'd stood by the door in her old dressing gown. "I'd felt the… worst. I needed to know, to feel…" Her big beautiful cousin had sat on the edge of his bed, head buried in his hands. Then he'd raked his fingers through his hair, looked up with eyes like dark sapphires, held out his hand and shown her. "After that, he was mine every uni holidays. Until Canary Wharf." When Dark and Death had ended so much; dreams and hopes and ancient prophecies…

"Ah, sweetheart. I'm sorry." Her gaze remained distanced, troubled, but Jack didn't think it was for the past. "Merelyn?"

Her face cleared. "I found him. He's with me still. I hold him here, Jack." She made the gesture he'd seen before, as though closing her hand around something precious, setting it in her heart. "I see him, hear him. He loves me and I love him. So yes, he was my first. But we were no Ianto and Lisa; he wasn't my first love. And I wasn't his. He never found his, but he doesn't care. He's happy. No, he and I were… more like me and Yan. You're my first, Jack. My first - and last." Her eyes darkened. "But I'm not to be your last. Promise me, Jack."

He crossed his heart and swore solemnly, thanking God she couldn't feel the lie. "I have Time Enough For Love, Merelyn. I'll find them. 'The more you love, the more you _can_ love - and the more intensely you love. Nor is there any limit on how _many_ you can love.' Hey, that wasn't Heinlein earlier, was it?"

"Just a prince and a couple of penguins. So you've met Lazarus Long."

"And his Dora. And Minerva, and Tamara, and Maureen, and Ishtar, and Laz and Lor. 'What a wonderful world it is that has girls in it!'"

"A quote! You _have_ been doing your homework. Girls _and_ guys. Don't forget Ira and Justin and Galahad. 'Men are more sentimental than women. It blurs their thinking.'"

"Ha! 'Darling, a true lady takes off her dignity with her clothes and does her whorish best.'"

"I did. And I will. As many times as you can handle. 'It is better to copulate than never.'"

"Woo hoo!" cried Jack. "'Everything in excess! Moderation is for monks!'"

"'Tanstaafl!'"

His brows snapped together. "Tan what?"

"Different book. 'There ain't no such thing as a free lunch.'"

He was instantly serious. "No."

"Jack…!"

He grinned, grabbed an ankle and tugged. Merelyn tumbled down with a startled yelp of laughter. Jack bounced onto the bed into her waiting arms. "'All women are the same height lying down!'" he crowed triumphantly as, preparing to have his mind blown away, he lowered his mouth to hers.

His mobile screeched a split second before his wrist device shrilled its alarm.

"Ohhh… Shit!" Merelyn shook her finger under his nose. "This is your fault! Wasting your mouth on silly chit-chat when it could-"

"_My_ fault?!" Jack snaked out a long arm to the mobile on the bedside table. "If you'd believed me in the first place…!"

"Where the hell are you?" Owen's voice was loud enough for Jack to wince and hold the mobile away from his ear. "We've got reports of two Weevils on the loose and you choose last night for a prowl on the tiles taking the sodding SUV with you! And the bloody Mouse isn't in yet either, though I expect she spent the night diddling herself cos no-one else will."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Relay the directions to the SUV. I'll pick Merelyn up on the way."

Merelyn's mobile was already chiming by the time she managed to grab it.

"Get that fat arse of yours moving," snarled Owen. "Weevils on the loose. Jack's coming."

Merelyn smiled sweetly at the already dead phone. "And a very good morning to you too, Owen. I wish… But he won't, so he's going to have to get over Diane all on his own." She looked over at Jack as he stood. "And he got that dead wrong. You're not coming for some time yet." Her expression altered to tragic. "And neither am I."

"Later, sweetheart. Later," said Jack, shoving his boxers inside his trousers so he could pull them on together. "I promise."

Merelyn began scrambling into her own clothes. "How many times, Jack?"

His head appeared through the neck of his shirt. "Until I die from exhaustion."

"Infinity! Four syllables to describe the innumerable. Brilliant!" She grabbed her trainers with one hand, mobile and keys with the other.

Jack stamped feet into boots and snatched up jacket and coat. He strode over and swept her up. "One kiss. To get me through the day."

Eventually, gasping, Merelyn pushed at his chest with her trainers. "That was… I don't think that was a good idea."

Jack gave a crack of laughter and set her on her feet. He caught her hand and they almost tumbled down the stairs. He tugged her towards the front door.

"Wait, wait!" She darted into the kitchen, reappeared juggling milk, muesli bars and bananas. "Okay, go! Go!"

"No chocolate?"

"For breakfast? Get out!"

The door banged shut behind them. Jack's voice floated back into the house as he shouted, "Today will be torture! Sweet, delicious torture!"

_That post-Diane Owen is such a pain! :D A brilliant catalyst for forthcoming action. And a complete joy to write! __Just love him.  
_


	16. Chapter 16

_**Warning!**__ J/M. Rated M. Contains high level sex, very high level coarse language, adult themes._

**Sixteen**

The jaws of the lift shut behind Owen and Tosh. Jack gave a sigh of relief. He couldn't have stood it one minute longer. He turned to Merelyn's workstation. She'd already sent her terminal to sleep, was reaching for her jacket. He grabbed her hand. "Can't wait that long."

"Thank God. Me neither." She flew up the steps by his side.

"This has been the longest day of my life." They raced past Tosh's workstation. "Every time I looked at you… I swear my balls have turned blue."

Merelyn tried to halt by the settee. Jack pulled her onward to his office. "But…?"

"Ianto's still around. Any other time he's welcome - but not now." He stopped suddenly, cupped her face in his hands. "I want this to be just you and me, Merelyn. You and me." His expression changed. "Does Ianto know? I mean, is he in there?" His gaze went to her forehead.

"It isn't like that, Jack. Yes, he is 'in here' but not consciously. He doesn't 'sit' in my head. It's rude, as well as confusing. He hasn't actively 'pathed me at all today." Merelyn's gaze became unfocussed. "Besides, he's upstairs, wrapped up trying to correlate Weevil sightings with Rift activity." Her eyes came back to him. "We're private. But this is no more private than out there." Her gaze cut to the clutter on his desk. "And we'll break something, probably me."

Jack laughed. "Not Jack's desk, sweetheart, not today. Jack's Den." He let her go, knelt down and hauled at the cover to the access tunnel.

"What the…?"

He looked up at her puzzled tone. "You don't know, do you?" He'd never felt a need to disappear into his Den when she was around. "It's where I go at night sometimes when I've run out of work or when I'm just tired of sitting, or standing or walking around." He set the cover against the wall. "It has a bed. Not a big bed, but at least it's a bed." He climbed down the ladder, switched on the light and stood on the narrow little bed looking up at her. He flexed his knees and jumped a little. "It even bounces."

Merelyn knelt on the edge of the tunnel and peered down into the small, dimly lit space below. "I swear you're half vampire."

"Oh yeah? Angel or Spike?"

"Angel was drool-worthy, but Spike… Spike was the big bad. That hair and the Brit accent firing one-liners at all those Americans."

"So come on down, Slayer. Let me show you how bad I can be."

"You want me to come down your hole?" Her expression was very innocent.

Jack's eyes widened. "Now who's bad? Love you to, but like I've told you before, you don't have the right equipment."

Merelyn studied her fingers. "Bet I could improvise."

Jack scrambled back up enough steps so they were on a level. "Merelyn, get that sweet ass of yours down here before I pull you down head first."

She leaned over more and kissed him, lightly at first, then deepening the kiss until they were clinging to each other, struggling for balance. "Oh God," Merelyn moaned against his mouth. "I am _way_ beyond that."

"So get down. Now."

He'd stripped off before she even had a chance to shimmy out of her jeans and undies, set the one pillow upright against the wall and sat leaning back so he could watch, hands well away from his rigid cock, fingers spread on the blanket as he forcibly relaxed them, chest expanding and contracting as he deliberately slowed his breathing.

Merelyn's hands were shaking so much she couldn't undo her shirt buttons. She looked at him helplessly.

Catching the shirt's hem, he tugged her down. "Leave it." He circled his arms around her intending to sit her sideways in his lap so he could fiddle buttons undone and do all the things he wanted to do before letting his raging, seeping hard-on anywhere near where it was so desperate to be.

Merelyn was having none of it. She straddled him, raised her hips, held him upright, and hilted him in one smooth stroke, sighing, "Oh, yeah," before he could find the strength to stop her.

He grabbed her hips. "No. Sweetheart. Wait-"

"Can't." She bit her lip and hilted him again, enveloped him in slick, wet heat. "No more waiting. I've waited all day. In jeans. Tight jeans. Every single pair I own is headed for Oxfam. Every step, every wiggle in my chair… Oh God."

"No." Sweat popped out on his forehead. His breathing was all to hell again. "Don't move. Do not move."

"Got to." She rose again.

"No. Stop. I want-" She sank down and a moan rose in his throat that was impossible to hold back. "Damn you, Merelyn, I want it to be…"

"Long luscious love?"

"No. Yes." She raked her nails over his nipples. He moaned again. "Merelyn. Please." He tightened his grip on her hips so much his fingertips went white. It didn't do any good, because she rose again. "Perfect," he gasped. "I just want it to be perfect."

She sank down, gave a moan of her own. "What could be more perfect than this?"

"Merelyn. Don't. Or I'm… I'm gonna…" He groaned with the effort of holding back.

"Flash. You're going to flash." She actually sat still, circled her thumbs on his temples. "Greatest compliment a guy can give a girl. So go ahead, flash. Make it good." The blue-grey eyes glittered, dark as night. "Come, Jack." Her fingers dug into his hair, her sheath clenched tight around him. "Come hard. Show me. I want to watch."

He groaned again, gave in and let her lift herself just enough so he could raise his hips to meet hers. Control fast disintegrating, somehow he managed to hold onto reality enough to find her clitoris, catch it with the pad of his thumb; managed to keep his eyes open so she could see; saw the blue-grey eyes looking into his widen, flutter, and open again; felt them both meet and part no more than half a dozen strokes, before huge contractions shook him and they were both crying their climax and shuddering in the aftermath.

* * *

Upstairs Owen shoved his way back through the front door. "Keys," he ground out in explanation at Ianto, who whacked his palm on the big red button so fast Owen hardly had to pause before the door opened and he could charge down the corridor.

* * *

"Flash?" queried Jack in a husky tone, smoothing a still shaking hand over Merelyn's hair. He felt the corner of her mouth curve against his chest.

"To come too fast cos you like someone too much."

"I think we both flashed. Feeling better?"

"Mmmm. How long?"

"Not long, Miss Insatiable."

"Yep, that's me," murmured Merelyn, her voice drowsy. "Take as long as you like. We have all the time in the world."

But they didn't, Jack knew, and knew Merelyn knew it too. He tightened his hold on her, felt her nestle in closer.

Catching up his keys from his workstation, the murmur of voices from Jack's empty office brought Owen up short. The intimacy of the tones twisted his gut. Silently, he made his way across, and saw light leaking out from the access tunnel in the floor. He crept over and peered down.

Jack was resting back on an upright pillow at the head of the single mattress, motionless, his pose limp, relaxed, his face and shoulders shiny with sweat. At first Owen thought what he held in his arms was simply a big, soft cushion. Then he realised it was a woman, still in a shirt, her head on Jack's chest, face turned away.

Owen held his breath. The only sound in the chamber was inside himself, the furious pounding in his chest and the roaring in his ears.

Jack broke the stillness of the outside.

"I hold you in my heart forever, with those past - Estelle and Daffydd Richards - and Ianto. I nev-" The woman raised her head and metamorphosed into, of all people, Merelyn Evans. Jack smiled, held her face in his hands. "And those yet to come." She smiled back, satisfied. "I never forget you."

"Then I live forever." Her voice was quiet, a simple statement. "I never leave you."

He must have moved, or choked, or something, because Jack raised his head, looked up at him, his eyes so full of love and welcome and - and _peace_, Owen thought he would puke. With something he'd never admit was a sob, he turned and stumbled out the office, down the steps, through the security door and into the lift. The doors didn't close fast enough to shut out two voices shouting his name and he cursed, slamming his fist into the side of the lift until eventually the doors were closed and the only sound was his own great, gulping breaths as he slid down the smooth metal wall to the floor.

* * *

"Later," they said to each other, reaching for clothes.

Jack grabbed his wrist device. "Ianto, I need you to track Owen. Don't stop him or anything. Just track where he goes."

"It's done," said Ianto, fingers flying over his keyboard. "What's up, Jack?" But the com was already shut.

Owen exited at a run without even a glance in his direction.

_Merelyn?_ queried Ianto as he watched Owen's headlong flight via the security cameras.

_It's okay, Yan._ Merelyn's mental tone was of a joy so deep and full Ianto caught his breath, a joy overlaid with suppressed laughter, frustration and worry.

Jack rushed in, shrugging himself awkwardly into his coat. "Got him?"

"He just got into his car. What's going on?"

"He saw us. Me and Merelyn."

"You and Merelyn?" Ianto took in Jack's happy grin. "You mean…?"

Jack shook his head. "Worse. Exchanging vows." He strode around the counter, curled his hand around Ianto's neck. "Take her home, make sure she's okay." He kissed him, long enough and hungry enough to set Ianto's toes curling inside his little black business socks. Then with a grin and a, "Help scratch that itch she's still got. I'll be there as soon as I can," and a swirl of his coat, he was gone.

Merelyn came in more slowly, clothes neat, jacket already on, her expression neutral.

Ianto peeked just a little, was met by a barrier behind which something seethed and heaved. "Jack said something about exchanging vows?"

She shrugged. "Oh, you know the sort of thing. I'm yours, you're mine. For ever and ever."

"Amen," breathed Ianto. The barrier burst and a great flood of exultation hit him. A single step took him to Merelyn, and he caught her up and swung her around and around, while postcards and leaflets leaped from their stands and whirled in multi-coloured flocks around their heads, and the little shop resounded with joyous laughter.

* * *

"Owen!"

Owen didn't bother turning around. "What?" The carpark wall wobbled beneath his feet. He knew it was the wall that wobbled because he hadn't drunk enough yet for it to be him.

"Get down."

"Why? I'm enjoying the view." The wall wobbled again, worse than before.

"Get down." Jack's voice was louder and more insistent.

Owen gazed out at the lights of the office high-rises, breathed in the dusty, petrol-fume smell of the city, breathed in the memory of perfume, heard the sound of the evening traffic, and music that wasn't there.

"Get down."

The perfume and music faded, and all that was left were the lights and buildings, the cold glass of the tequila bottle in his hand, and JackFuckingHarkness. "You really are a rude bastard, Harkness. Aren't you forgetting something - and I don't mean 'Torchwood needs you'. That'll just make me spew over that couple snogging down there. Haven't you got a home to go to?" he yelled down into the street below. "Some nice warm bed to shag in?"

"Owen, get down." Jack's voice was quiet this time and very close. "Please."

Owen turned, rather neatly in his opinion, considering the wall's narrowness. He fixed Jack with a stare, not bothering to hide his dislike. "The captain's found his manners at last. About time. I was getting tired of all this standing around." He jumped down without a stagger, well, not enough of a stagger to count, and lowered himself to a sitting position with the wall at his back. He glared balefully up at Jack. "'Get down'? Is that the best you can manage? Remind me to not call you for back-up if I ever come across a real loser."

Jack simply grinned, slid down the wall next to him, crossed his ankles and settled his hands comfortably in his lap around a bottle of his own.

"You didn't actually think I was going to jump, did you? If I ever decide to top myself I'll find a way that's a bloody sight more fun than splattering Owen jam all over the pavement." He took a swig from the bottle he'd picked up from the offie on the way, the same offie he'd bought Diane's champagne.

"Like getting your throat torn out by a Weevil?"

"Oh, fuck off." He swigged again. "As if the sight of you and the Mouse slobbering all over each other is going to make me want to commit seppuku! On second thoughts, where did I leave my sword?" He fell silent and sat, brooding, hunched over the bottle. "Did you really think I was going to jump?"

"No." Jack unscrewed the cap of his bottle. "I had to confiscate the security tape at the off-licence. A dispute over incorrect change is not sufficient cause for a member of Torchwood to be dragged into court on assault charges." He took a long swallow from the bottle.

Owen felt his mouth begin to lift, managed to stop it before it did, allowed his bottle to salute a 'touché' instead. "Little Merelyn Evans, eh? No accounting for taste is there." He tipped the bottle at Jack's. "What you got there, then?"

"Gin, I got a liking for it in Lahore."

Owen shuddered. "Like I said, no accounting for taste. God, you sounded like a greetings card, or one of those soppy necklaces! 'Together forever'!"

Jack tipped his head back and looked at the stars. "But we won't be."

"Bollocks. I heard her. 'I'll never leave you!'" he mimicked.

"Yes, she will." Jack's eyes wandered the heavens. "She'll die. Go where I can't follow." He picked out the stars whose systems he'd visited, wondered where he'd go in the future.

"Could be you first."

"No. No, it won't."

"Predicted that, has she?"

"Sort of. Believe me, I know. _We_ know."

Some of the anger and envy left Owen's face. He turned his head from Jack and took a long pull at the tequila.

"And when she goes all I'll have is memories, same as you. Until my next love comes along and I make more memories with them. At least, that's what I'm supposed to do, what Merelyn wants."

"Those yet to come," murmured Owen.

Jack's smile was rather crooked. "Don't quite know how I'm going to manage that yet." He took another swallow of gin, felt the burn hit his throat, welcomed it. "Hope I won't have to for a very long time." Maybe he'll have worked it out in a couple of millennia.

They sat for a minute, both busy with thoughts of women.

Eventually, Owen broke the silence. "Off you go then. Get back to her."

Jack wrinkled his nose. "She can wait." He stuck one hand in his pocket, ran his eyes ran over the heavens again. "It's such a beautiful night."

"Is it? Well you can enjoy it on your own then, cos I'm not freezing my arse off out here any longer." He struggled to his feet. "I have a nice warm flat, and a date with Mortal Kombat."

"Armageddon?" Jack got up hurriedly, yanking his keys and mobile from his pocket. "I'll drive." His gaze switched from the SUV to the gin bottle, checked the level of the spirit. "On second thoughts we'll grab a taxi." He sent the text he'd quickly thumbed in, and dialled. "Baggsy Sub-zero."

"Oh, no you don't, Harkness. He's mine. Baggsy? _Baggsy…?_"

* * *

_Later is tomorrow__._

Merelyn shoved her phone back in her pocket, turned back to the stand and recommenced jamming postcards into their places. "If he does this to me again, I'll slit Owen's throat with one of his own scalpels!"

"Still itchy?" Setting the last of the leaflets into just the right spot on the counter, Ianto grinned at Merelyn's face. "I didn't peek, I swear. Jack said... Jack said you were getting some kind of rash. You really ought to get that looked at. There's a clinic at UHW, I'll book you an app- Ow!" he yelped, surprised at how much sting a stack of Greetings From Cardiff postcards could deliver to the cheek when flicked at high speed from six feet away. He ducked as Millennium Centre key rings followed. "Don't, Merelyn! I'll be good, I promise!"

The key ring hail halted. "Really good?"

"Better than good. Come on, Mere. I'm always better than good. Admit it."

The last key ring slipped from Merelyn's fingers. "Oh my God!" She buried her face in her hands. "What have I done?" she moaned between her fingers. "_Two_ cocky guys…!"

Ianto came over, peeled her hands away. "Yes, but with Jack it's all talk." He circled a thumb over her palm. "Whereas with me…" He kissed her gently, felt what he did to her, let her feel what she did to him. "And I cook too. Dinner first tonight, okay. High carb and calorie laden - cos you're going to need all the energy you can get!"

_Okay, guys, umm__, I'm really sorry about this, but that's it – at least for a while. This absolutely isn't deliberate, I wanted to put the whole thing up, but I can't cos I've caught myself up and simply have no more written. When I first began putting chapters up I hoped I'd get to the end of S1 at least. Unfortunately, Real Life got real difficult and far busier than I ever thought, and my scribbling time has been cut dramatically_

_B__ig thank yous to all you Poms, Yanks, Canadians, Aussies and Germans (aren't the new stats brilliant!) for checking in week after week. Extra special thanks and hugs go out to mysterypoet66, Bewildered butterfly, Allestian and odd-in-many-ways. Your reviews made carry on, fill holes and post quicker. If I could I'd 'port huge boxes of Thornton's Continental Choccies to you all!_

_I promise__ there'll be more – just not sure quite when. I mean, I can't leave it like this can I? There's I/M and J/M, and we have to find out if that damn medallion's ever going to do anything, and Ianto__… __I really have to do something about Ianto. Jack and Merelyn are all very well, but I can't leave him waiting and hoping… I wonder, now who…? They'd have to be pretty special… Oh, I know! Oh yes, __very__ special, they'll be perfect!_

_So again, thanks for reading. In the words of the Governor of California – __I'LL BE BACK! _


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